UGSB  LIBRARY 


EDNA  SMITH-DERAN 


The  Grief 
Shadow  Between 

and  Other  Poems 

BT 

EDNA   SMITH-DERAN 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Am  I  My  Brother's  Keeper?  " 

"  Verses  by  the  Wayside" 

Etc. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

KALAMAZOO,  MICHIGAN 
1911 


Copyrighted  1911,  by 
EDNA  SMITH-DERAN 


To 

MY  IDEAL 

Brilliant  in  brain,  and  pure  in  heart, 

Cleanly  in  body  and  mind ; 
Sharing  the  griefs  of  thy  fellow  men; 

Tender  and  loving  and  kind; 
Yet  not  too  perfect  to  be  of  the  world; 

(Human  I'd  have  thee  to  be;) 
Worthy  a  good  woman's  love  and  trust: 

Dearest  of  all  men  to  me. 


CONTENTS 

A  Reply   73 

A   Thought    45 

A  Story  in  Rhyme   126 

A  Heart  Cry 150 

An  Answer   124 

An  Inspiration    46 

All  We  Need   145 

All  One    109 

At   Night    102 

At  a  Summer  Resort   13 

Because    10 

Beggars  at  the  Gate  of  Gold  93 

Blinded 36 

Both   Best    Ill 

Be  a  Leader   128 

Could  I  Go  Back   112 

Don't  Let  the  Songs  Die  in  Your  Heart 23 

Evening  Prayer  for  the  Truth  Seekers'  Club 81 

Fiftieth  Anniversary  Mr  and  Mrs.   R 42 

For  Every  Cross  a  Crown 48 

God's    Mysteries    21 

Give   Joy    44 

Grieve   Not    101 

He  Beheld  the  City  and  Wept 17 

How  Long  Is  Day 89 

Have  You  Forgotten    56 

It's  Nobody's  Business   146 

Jamie     131 

Life    .  114 


Love    140 

Love's   Token    69 

Longing    71 

Love  vs.    Law    70 

Life's    Music    85 

Live  Your  Sermons  Every  Day 97 

Life's  Miracle 25 

Missing    Sambo 75 

My  Promise 77 

My    Creed 118 

My    Work 130 

Make   Heaven   Each   Day 91 

Make   Yourself   Known 148 

Nature's    Rhyme     37 

New    Hope 76 

Oh,  I  Loves  You 19 

Our    Duty    51 

Our  Boys  of  '61 116 

Polly    Make-Believe 41 

Prepared  for  War 83 

Query    43 

Resurrected  Hope 62 

Service,    Not    Self 60 

Sacrifice    123 

Slumber    Song    28 

The  Man  Who  Shirks 138 

The   Need  of  the  World 104 

The  Women  of  the  Future   107 

The    Daisy 136 

The  Grief  Shadow  Between 7 

The   Problem   of  Life 53 

The  Quest  of  the  Soul.  .  59 


The  Man  in  the  Mansion   121 

The  Highways  of  Life  99 

The  Day  is  Dead 30 

The  Star  of  Truth 24 

The  Narrow  Path 32 

The  Men  of  Tomorrow 52 

Time   and    Space 88 

Telepathy     38 

True    Friendship 9 

Tomorrow    57 

To  M.   A.   S 14 

To   Prof.    W 20 

To    Harvey    Fuller 26 

To   Mrs.    P 27 

To  Little  "I  Will" 39 

To    Mrs.    F 40 

To   Arthur    Kellogg    80 

To    W 55 

To   -    — 79 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F 95 

To    Pauline 120 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H 105 

To  E.   H.   G 129 

To of  St.  Louis  135 

Vision    Prophetic 133 

While   I   Am   Here 12 

Wild  Woods   Queries 34 

When  War  Calls  Men  to  Arms 142 

You  Pray  For  a  Heaven  Above 15 

You    Cannot    Forget 67 

Your  Dream    31 


THE  GRIEF  SHADOW  BETWEEN 

You  look  in  the  face  of  the  baby  you  hold, 

So  pure  in  its  innocent  glee; 
You  try  to  forget;  but  e'en  as  you  look 

The  form  of  another  you  see. 

You  smile  in  the  face  of  the  daughter  you  hold, 

And  yet  in  the  depths  of  your  heart 
The  face  of  another — a  daughter — you  see, 

Who  from  you  years  ago  had  to  part. 

And  e'en  tho'  unworthy  were  you,  still  your  heart 
Cannot  dim  that  pure  face  to  your  mind, 

Cannot  blot  from  your  mem'ry  that  voice  saying  "Dad." 
A  life  of  regret  you  now  find. 

Every  kiss  that  this  babe  will  e'er  press  on  your  lips 
Will  be  marred  by  the  metn'ry  of  this: 

The  daughter — once  "Dad's" — must  fatherless  be; 
A  father's  protection  she'll  miss. 

The  years  are  fast  going;  were  you  on  a  throne 
What  else  could  she  give  you  save  scorn? 

You — loved  by  one  child  who  will  learn  what  you  were, 
And  scorned  by  the  one  left  forlorn. 

7 


A  father  untrue  to  the  babe  of  his  blood 
Can  hope  for  naught  less  than  regret; 

The  hot,  scalding  tears  you  have  shed  will  come  oft 
Again  ere  your  life's  sun  be  set. 

But  tears  will  not  blot  from  your  past  what  was  bad; 

And  sorrow  must  follow  each  sin. 
The  law  has  decreed  we  must  reap  as  we  sow, — 

Sow  lust,  a  lust-harvest  we  win. 

So  look  in  the  eyes  of  that  babe  and  there  see 

A  picture  you  would  not  tell  all. 
The  world  views  the  innocent  babe  on  your  knee; 

To  your  gaze  a  dim  shadow  will  fall. 

A  shadow  of  nameless,  unspeakable  grief 
'Tween  her  and  the  joy  in  your  heart ; 

With  her  prattle  you'll  hear  a  faint  heartcry  of  "Dad" 
From  the  daughter  who  lives  far  apart. 

And  when  you  lay  down  this  old  earth-form  of  life, 
And  one  stands  by  your  grave  low  and  green, 

Your  soul  will  cry  loud  as  it  sees  only  one: 
"I  placed  that  grief-shadow  between." 

And  e'en  tho'  "on  high"  should  thy  spirit  then  roam, 

Or  still  on  this  earth  live  unseen, 
'Tis  decreed  that  not  once  can  thy  spirit  forget 

Or  transform  that  grief-shadow  between. 

And  when  in  the  end  all  are  gathered  at  last, 

And    we    all    then    shall    "know    as    we're    known," 

Then   what  will  you  say?     For  both  then  will  see 
You've  reaped  what  you've  knowingly  sown. 
8 


Will  one  you  now  hold  look  with  pride  on  your  past? 

The  other  forget  and  forgive? 
Perchance  this  might  be.    Yet  still  in  your  soul 

Will  the  mem'ry  of  that  grief-shadow  live. 


TRUE  FRIENDSHIP 

When  the  heart  is  o'erflowing  with  sorrow, 
And  our  burdens  are  many  to  bear, 

And  the  load  seems  too  heavy  to  carry, 
We  oft  ask :  does  fate  treat  us  quite  fair  ? 

But  as  some  gentle  whisper  comes  to  us 

And  a  hand  is  soft  slipped  in  our  own, 

It  just  seems  as  if  that  is  the  dearest, 

Best  possession  of  friendship  we've  known. 

When  it  seeks  us  in  grief  to  give  comfort, 
Or  in  poverty  to  give  us  its  cheer, 

When  the  rest  of  the  world  has  forsaken, — 
I  just  tell  you  such  friendship  is  dear. 


BECAUSE 

I  would  not  say  one  harsh  or  bitter  word 

To  wound  a  human  heart, 
And  leave  its  sting  to  rankle  long  and  sore 

And  poison  with  its  dart; 
For  you  are  human  and  of  all  the  world 

You  are,  my  love,  a  part. 
And  so  I  would  not  say  one  cruel  word 

Because — because  I  love  you. 

I  would  not  think  one  low  or  vulgar  thought, 

For  love  is  pure  and  true, 
And  "thoughts  have  wings,"  and  my  unworthy  ones 

Might  fly  away  to  you 
And  you'd  lose  faith  in  me  and  I  would  grieve, 

For  I  would  know  you  knew. 
And  so  I'd  think  no  vile  or  selfish  thought 

Because — because  I  love  you. 

I  would  not  list  to  aught  save  what  is  pure, 

And  to  all  else  say  nay; 
For  that  I  list  might  lodge  within  my  heart 

And  hold  a  mighty  sway, 
And,  ere  I  was  aware  some  passing  hour 

From  out  my  mouth  might  stray. 
And  so  I'd  only  hark  to  what  is  good, 

Because — because  I  love  you. 
10 


I  would  not  in  one  human  see  a  sin 

That  I  would  criticise; 
Tho'  in  life's  gutter  he,  I'd  not  condemn, 

For  love  would  make  me  wise; 
I  know  that  loving  eyes  see  naught  but  good, 

Or  error,  which  for  your  sweet  sake,  I'd  change 
And  lift  that  brother  up  to  heights  of  truth 

Because — because  I  love  you. 

Aye,  loving  you,  I'd  be  more  tender,  true 

To  you  and  all  mankind, 
And  what  I  see  within  your  loving  heart 

In  all  men  try  to  find. 
Because  of  my  unselfish  love  for  you 

I'd  seek  the  best  in  life, 
Or  should  I  see  the  worst,  would  make  it  good 

Because — because  I  love  you. 


TI 


WHILE  I  AM  HERE 

If  for  me  you've  fragrant  flowers, 

I  pray  you  give  them  now; 
For  when  I'm  dead  I  can't  enjoy  them, 

Or  smell  them  anyhow. 

If  for  me  you've  words  of  kindness 

I  pray  you  speak  today; 
Don't  wait  till  I  am  in  my  coffin, 

I  can't  hear  what  you  say. 

If  for  my  lips  you  have  sweet  kisses, 

I  beg  you  to  bestow 
Your  love's  great  wealth  while  I  can  feel  it, 

While  I  am  here  to  know. 

Today  I  want  your  kind  caresses, 

(My  spirit  needs  them  not) 
To  help  me  in  my  earth  progression 

So  full  of  trials  wrought. 

And  so,   my   friends,  give  and  withhold  not 

All  that  you  would  bestow, 
While  I  am  in  this  earth  plane  with  you, 

While  I  am  here  to  know. 


AT  A  SUMMER  RESORT 

(In   reply  to   Brand   Whitlock's   poem  of   same  title, 
published  in  The  American  Magazine,  July,  1911. 

'Tis  beautiful :  the  ocean  air 

That  wafts  its  breezes  o'er  my  face; 

The  perfume-laden  flowers  that  send 
Their  dainty  odors  everyplace. 

The  carols  of  the  birds  that  flit 

From  tree  to  tree  to  join  their  mate; 

To  know  'tis  mine  to  see,  to  hear, 

To  breathe,  enjoy — delightful  fate. 

And  yet,  not  once  would  I  forget 

My  brothers,  who  must  toil  and  spin, 

Whose  care-worn  features  feel  no  breeze 

On  sweat-stained  brow,  as  bread  they  win. 

I'd  not  forget  their  work-worn  wives, 
Lest  I  too  long  would  idly  live 

At  ease,  while  they — my  sisters — wept 
For  one  kind  word  that  I  might  give. 

I'd  not  forget  the  youths  who  toil, 

Bereft  of  childhood's  rightful  glee ; 

I  would  not,  could  not,  once  forget 
Their  painful  pleading  looks  to  me. 

13 


I  seek  for  rest,  but  they  have  none. 

Save  cares  of  wealth,  what  wearied  me? 
Why  should  I  long  seek  idle  hours 

When  all  their  lives  at  toil  must  be? 

The  ocean  air,  the  flowers'  perfume, 

And  songs  of  birds  are  fine.    And  yet 

They're  mine  to  share,  to  strengthen  me 
To  love  the  world.     I'd  not  forget. 


TO  M.  A.  S. 

Dear,  life  has  no  sorrow 

That  love  will  not  cure, 

If  we  are  but  patient 

And  bravely  endure. 

Look  upward.    The  sunshine 
Is  bright  for  each  one. 

Keep  peering  through  darkness 
Till  clouds  are  all  gone. 

The  shadows  will  vanish, 

The  sun  seem  more  bright. 

Then  always  be  hopeful 

And    cling   to   the   right. 


YOU  PRAY  FOR  A  HEAVEN  ABOVE 

Give  me  this  earth  with  weal  and  woe, 
With  storm  and  shine  and  winds  that  blow, 
With  human  hearts  that  beat  so  true 
With  sorrows  old  and  pleasures  new, 
This  dear  old  earth  with  its  golden  glow 
Of  love  and  treasured  friends  we  know. 

Yes,  give  me  men  who  think  and  feel 
For  human  woes,  who  try  to  heal 
By  kindly  words  our  broken  hearts; 
Where  day  by  day  in  busy  marts 
Our  women  work  and  poor  men  toil, 
Or  till  the  fields  of  richest  soil. 

From  tears  and  works  you  seek  release ; 
You  ask  a  place  where  all  is  peace, 
This  dear  old  earth  seems  good  to  me, 
And  midst  its  woes  I'd  rather  be, 
Where  yearning,  joy,  and  grief,  and  pain, 
All  come  and  go  and  come  again 

To  test  our  hearts  and  make  them  strong. 
There  is  a  right  for  every  wrong, 
And  when  we  know  our  power  to  heal 
And  lift  our  friends  from  woe  and  weal, 
I'm  sure  the  heaven  that's  right  here  now 
Is  all  I'd  ask  for  anyhow. 

15 


Perchance  there  is  a  heaven  above, 
Where  all  is  joy  and  rest  and  love; 
But  had  I  done  my  share  of  good, 
And  loved  my  neighbor  as  I  should, 
I'd  not  be  here  in  flesh  today, 
For  in  your  heaven,  perchance  I'd  stay. 

But  there  is  still  some  work  for  me 
Right  here  on  earth;  and  so  you  see 
Why  I  don't  ask  your  heaven  above ; 
I'd    rather   fill   this    earth    with   love, 
And  have  some  heaven  right  now  and  here, 
And  to  sad  hearts  bring  hope  and  cheer. 

But  when  our  work  is  rightly  done 
The  greater  heaven  has  long  begun. 
But  when  we  sit  and  weep  and  wail 
For  wrongs,  and  griefs,  and  beings  frail, 
And  long  for  death,  and  moan,  and  sigh, 
We  lose  the  heaven  that's  just  close  by. 


16 


HE  BEHELD  THE  CITY  AND  WEPT 

Luke  19:41. 

'Twas  in  the  olden  days  long  gone 

When  Christ  was  here  with  men, 

He  wept  and  worked.    What  would  He  now 
Were  He  on  earth  again  ? 

What  would  our  cities  with  their  dirt, 

Their  sorrow  and  their  sin, 
Our  women  fallen,  men  filled  with  greed, 

What  would  they  seem  to  Him  ? 

If  He  should  see  where  creatures  work, 

In  stifling  dens  of  dust, 
Lint-laden  air  so  filled  with  germs, 

For  bread — tho'  but  a  crust, — 

Could  He  but  see  the  hungry  child 
Search  refuse  barrels  for  food, 

For  cast-off  food,  or  bits  of  bread, 
Which,  finding,  tasted  good, — 

Could  He  see  gaunt-faced,  starving  babes 

Moan  in  their  fitful  sleep, 
And  gasp  for  air,  and  die, — methinks 

Again  would  Jesus  weep. 

17 


As  He  saw  misers — made  from  men — 
Give  measures  false  for  gold, 

As  He  saw  honor  daily  slain, 
And    virtue   daily   sold, 

The  poisoned  food  we  each  must  eat, 
The  death-draughts  we  all  drink, 

The  laws  that  crush  the  poor  and  shield 
The  rich, — He'd  weep,  I  think. 

What  would  He  say  of  churches  fine? 

What  temple  would   He  seek, 
When  creeds  are  fighting  other  creeds 

Tho  "God"  is  preached  each  week? 

Oh  what  is  faith  without  the  work? 

Christ's  spirit  is  here  still 
Proclaiming  brotherhood  to  men; 

Let's  work  with  right  good  will. 

Let's  make  this  earth  a  habitat 

Where  love  and  peace  shall  reign, 

Where  Christ  need  shed  no  tear  of  grief 
Should  He  come  back  again. 


18 


OH,  I  LOVES  YOU 

When  the  world  seems  dark  and  dreary, 

And  the  sun  has  ceased  to  shine, 
And  a  gloom  is  hov'ring  o'er  you 

As  you  see  your  hopes  decline, 
Then  you   almost   feel  like   sinking 

'Neath  the  load  that's  tiring  you, 
Till  you  hear  a  childish  whisper : 

"Oh,  I  loves  you,  'deed  I  do." 

Then  two  little  arms  fold  'round  you, 

And  two  blue  eyes  meet  your  own, 
And  two  little  feet  climb  lapward, — 

"Mamma,  dear,  I's  dis  turn  home. 
I's  been  playin,  wif  my  dolly, 

But  I's  tired.     I  wanted  you." 
And  the  little  lips  come  closer, 

"Oh,  I  loves  you,  'deed  I  do." 

Childhood  trust  dispels  the  sorrow; 

Baby  lips  kiss  grief  away; 
How  could  eyes  be  filled  with  teardrops? 

"Tears  det  in  the  baby's  way." 
So  you  wipe  away  the  grief  signs 

As  you  look  in  eyes  of  blue. 
Then  the  baby,   laughing,   whispers: 

"Oh,  I  loves  you,  'deed  I  do." 
19 


May  this  childish  faith  ne'er  waver. 

Clasp  and  keep  that  love  your  own. 
Let  not  grief,  nor  acts  unworthy 

Kill  the  fruit  of  good  seeds  sown. 
Oh  may  heaven  keep  you  worthy 

Of  this  child's  love,  pure  and  true. 
May  her  words  e'er  cheer  your  pathway: 

"Oh,  I  loves  you,  'deed  I  do." 


TO  PROF. 


Life,  thou  art  a  sad  thing 

If  we  stop  to  mourn, 
If  we  look  for  sorrow 

And  shed  our  tears  forlorn. 

Life,  thou  art  a  glad  thing 

If  a  smile  we  try, 
If  to  grief  and  trouble 

We  say:    "My  friend,  goodbye.' 

Life,  thou  art  a  wise  thing, 

Glad  am  I  to  live, 
To  love,  and  weep,  and  labor, 

And  strength  to  others  give. 


20 


GOD'S  MYSTERIES 

Like  children  at  play  have  we  wandered  along; 

The  noontide  of  life,  now  o'ehead, 
Bids  us  pause  and  in  calm,  careful  thought  here  today 

See  the  motive  by  which  we  are  led 
Away  from  the  rush  of  the  harsh,  hustling  world, 

Away  from  its  clamor  and  greed, 
To  the  solace  of  friendship  and  the  sweetness  of  rest, 

To  partake  of  the  food  our  souls  need; 

To  sit  in  the  silence  and  ask  of  our  souls : 

"Oh  whither?     Oh  wherefore?    Oh  what? 
And,  Oh  soul  of  mine,  tell  me,  has  life  been  in  vain? 

For  we  come  thus  today  to  be  taught." 
But  hark!    As  we  listen  a  voice  seems  to  say: 

"Oh  heart  that  is  longing  to  hear 
Of  God's  mysteries,  ye  will  not  seek  them  in  vain, 

For  'tis  love  that  shall  make  them  all  clear. 

"Not  love  such  as  asks  for  its  service  a  price, 

But  love  that  is  willing  to  give — 
Aye,  sacrifice  all,  then  go  on  its  way, 

Only  glad  to  help  some  soul  to  live. 
Tis  love  such  as  this  that  will  bind  thee  to  men 

Who  cannot  sink  hopeless  in  sin; 
For  thine  eyes  looking  Godward,  thy  hand  reaching  down 

To  thy  brother's,  their  hearts  thou  canst  win. 
21 


"And  God, — is  He  not  but  the  essence  of  Love? 

And  thou  but  a  part  of  the  whole  ? 
Then  why  call  aught  mystery?    Thou,  part  of  Him, 

Thou  canst  know  if  thou  wilt.     Seek  the  goal. 
'Tis  "amo,"  not  "credo,"  the  key  that  solves  all. 

When  love  pure  and  true  fills  thy  soul 
Till  it  crowds   out   all   selfishness,   envy,   and  strife, 

Thou  wilt  know,  and  can  fathom  the  whole. 

"And  so  the  voice  ceases.    A  silence  now  reigns. 

But  peace  hath  been  granted  to  me; 
And  that  once  restless  longing  to  know  what  and  where 

Has  been  granted.     Now  plainly  I  see 
That  I   and  my  Father  are  one  and  the  same; 

I  need  but  assert  birth  divine. 
As  to  whither — Oh,  God,  where  Thou  art  I  shall  be, 

So   all   power   and   knowledge    are    mine." 


22 


DON'T  LET  THE  SONGS  DIE  IN 
YOUR  HEART 

Don't  let  the  songs  die  in  your  heart 

Because  of  minor  strains; 
The  sweetest  music  is  the  best 

Because   of  sad  refrains. 

Don't  let  life's  greed  crush  out  the  good; 

Share  with  the  world  your  all. 
Be  thoughtful  of  your  fellow  men 

And  good  to  you  will  fall. 

Don't  let  life's  sorrow  crush  its  joy. 

Let  smiles  shine  through  the  tears 
And  they  will  stop  their  briny  flow. 

Let  hope  crowd  out  the  fears. 

Don't  let  despair  creep   in  your  heart ; 

Life's  skies  are  clear  and  blue. 
Just  hope,  and  trust,  and  work,  my  friends; 

Success  will  come  to  you. 

Don't  let  the  songs  die  in  your  heart 

But   smile   and   work   on   still ; 
Your  songs  will  cheer  some  saddened  life 

And  with  new  hope  will  thrill. 

Then  smile  and  sing.    Let  this  old  world 
Resound  with  songs  and  cheers. 

Life's  postlude  is  a  glad  Amen — 
Glad  both  for  joys  and  tears. 

23 


THE  STAR  OF  TRUTH 

I  followed  a  star, 

And  through  the  wild  woods  of  despair  it  has  led, 
And  from  a  rough  banquet  of  grief  it  has  fed, 
Until,  in  the  stillness  of  night,  I  have  cried : 
"Oh  star,  why  from  joy  have  I  thus  been  denied? 
In  faith  I  have  followed  wherever  you  went. 
But  was  I  for  grief  and  for  loneliness  sent 
Away  from  the  haunts  and  the  harvests  of  glee?" 
The  star  seemed  to  say :     "Follow  me.    Follow  me." 

I  followed  the  star, 

And  soon  in  the  darkness  I  felt  at  my  side 

A  poor  fallen  sister,  who  pleadingly  cried 

And  begged  me  to  lead  her  out  on  to  truth's  way. 

And  then  from  the  star  came  a  strange  flick'ring  ray 

As  I  took  her  hand,  and  together  we  went 

To  where,  in  its  silence,  that  lonely  star  sent. 

And  tho'  to  the  world  would  that  comrade  mean  naught, 

Yet  some  way  a  strange  silent  sweetness  she  brought. 

We  followed  the  star. 

The  pathway  grew  brighter;   the  thorns  were  no  more. 

And  on,  far  beyond,  was  the  goal,  I  was  sure. 

Soon  lo!  in  our  pathway  we  met  some  strange  men 

Who,  weary  of  traveling,  had  fainted;  and  then 

From  out  of  the  water  that  flowed  near  our  feet, 

We  bathed  their  poor  foreheads.    I'm  sure  it  was  sweet 

To  feel  the  cool  touch,  for  they  brokenly  said : 

"God  bless  you."    I  knew  by  the  star  we'd  been  led. 

24 


We  followed  the  star, 

And  they,  gained  in  strength,  went  along  with  us,  too, 
And  some  way  their  faith  in  the  star  grew  and  grew. 
We  passed  a  small  village  of  people,  and  they 
Inquired  as  we  passed :    "Oh  where  do  you  stray  ?" 
"We  follow  the  star,  and  it  leads  to  the  goal, 
The  goal  of  true  greatness,  the  hope  of  the  soul." 
So,  leaving  their  homes,  they  curious,  went  'long. 
I  told  of  love's  star,  and  we  sang  love's  sweet  song. 

We  followed  the  star. 

Wherever  we  met  with  disease  or  with  grief 

We'd  bind  up  their  wounds,  and  we'd  give  them  relief. 

Through  cities,  and  valleys,  and  deserts  we  marched, 

And  working,   forgot  that  our  hearts  had  been  parched, 

And  selfish,  and  seared,  in  the  days  now  long  passed. 

Then  some  way  our  journey  seemed  ended  at  last. 

The  star  stood  above  me  in  heaven's  bright  blue, — 

That  star  I  had  followed  so  faithful  and  true. 

I  followed  the  star. 

It  led  me  through  grief  to  the  joy  of  today, 

And  when  was  the  change,  I'm  sure  I  can't  say. 

I  looked  back  to  see,  and  beheld  a  vast  crowd 

Of  bright  happy  faces ;  they  cheered  long  and  loud. 

I  looked  at  the  star.    It  was  changed.    It  was  GOD. 

For  I  had  but  followed  the  path  Jesus  trod. 

No  creed  had  I  claimed,  but  the  star  led  the  way 

Unto  this,  love's  most  perfect  and  bright  endless  day. 


TO  HARVEY  A.  FULLER 

The  Blind  Author,  Lecturer  and  Poet. 

Yes,  in  our  worldly  way  we  say  "He's  blind." 
But  it  oft  seems  that  we  are  blinded,  too. 

In  peevish  haste,  like  children,  do  we  cry 

At   fate.     But  thou  canst  bravely  bear    (and  do) 

Thy  burden,  and,  in  shadows  dark, 

Pursue  thy  path  with  not  a  cry  or  moan, 

And  in  the  silence  of  thy  darkened  way 

Drink  deep  of  sorrows  that  we  have  not  known. 

While  thou  dost  tread  where  darkened  shadows  play 
And  only  list  to  what  we  hear  and  see, 

Thy  heart,  so  consecrated  pure  and  brave, 
Sees  beauties  that  for  us  may  never  be. 

We  see  the  richness  of  the  flower  tints; 

Their  sweeter  fragrance  with  thee  do  we  share ; 
But  to  thy  listening  ear  they  breathe  a  song 

In  metered  measure  that  we  never  hear. 

Yes,  fair  the  world  that  thou  canst  ne'er  more  see, 
And  sweet  the  tints  of  blossom  and  of  leaf; 

But  fair  indeed  thy  world  of  sweet  content 

Unmarred  by  bitterness,  undimmed  by  grief. 
26 


Oh,  may  each  day  bring  peace  to  thee  and  thine, 

And  health,  and  love,  and  of  life's  store  the  best. 

And  when  the  curtain  lifts  for  perfect  day 
Sweet  be  thy  passage  to  the  land  of  rest. 


TO  MRS.  P. 

A  worded  thought  that's  just  thine  own, 

A  verse  for  thee,  for  thee  alone? 

What  shall  it  breathe  to  thee,  my  friend, 

What  message  to  thy  heart  must  send? 

What  shall  I  wish  for  thee :    Joy  ?    Health  ? 

Power?     Fame?     Or   shall  it  be,   dear,  wealth? 

Nay,  rather  would  I  wish  the  thing 

That  shall  all  these  forever  bring — 

I  wish  that  love,  unbounded,  true, 

(Unknown  by  some  life's  journey  through) 

Might  come  and  fill  thy  very  soul 

And  bind   life's  parts  in  one   great  whole 

And  bless  thee  dear,  in  joy  or  pain, 

This  is  my  wish.    Please  God,  amen. 


SLUMBER  SONG 

Close  thine  eyes,  little  darling, 

Let  sweet  slumber  bring  thee  rest. 

Naught  can  harm  my  baby  sweetheart 
While  she  sleeps  on  mother's  breast. 

All  too  soon  the  years  will  claim  thee, 
So  let  mother  hold  thee  now; 

Let  my  loving  arms  enfold  thee; 
Let  my  kisses  press  thy  brow. 

Slumber  sweetly,  little  darling, 

Angels  watch  thee  in  thy  sleep; 

Angel  forms  are  hovering  o'er  thee 
And  all  dangers  from  thee  keep. 

Ah,  thou  smilest  in  thy  dreaming ! 

What,  my  darling,  dost  thou  see? 
Oh,  I  would  the  smiles  might  linger, 

I  would  Shed  all  tears  for  thee. 

I  would  bear  each  heartache,  darling, 
I  would  kiss  each  pain  away; 

For  I  love  thee,  Oh  my  baby, 

Just  how  much  thou'lt  know  some  day. 
28 


When  thine  own  arms  hold  a  loved  one, 
And  thy  heart  aches  with  a  fear 

Lest  the  coming  years  bring  sorrow 
To  that  babe  thou'lt  prize  so  dear. 

Then  thou'lt  know  how  mother  loved  thee 
Baby  mine,  so  fair  and  sweet; 

Now  thou  slumb'rest  caring  little 
As  my  lips  thy  fingers  meet. 

Slumber  sweetly.     Angels  bless  thee, 

Oh  my  baby — only  mine — 
Oh  how  much  I  love  thee,  darling, 

Thou   wilt    know    sometime — sometime. 


THE  DAY  IS  DEAD 

The  evening's  soft  gray  mantles  fall; 
The  night's  dim  shadows  cover  all; 
The  day  is  dead  and  buried  now, 
And  to  its  records  I  must  bow. 

What  do  they  show  of  good  or  ill? 
What  work  accomplished,  and  what  still 
Remains  to  do?     The  night's  release 
Has  brought  to  me  a  sense  of  peace. 

What  tho  my  work  has  not  been  fair? 
'Twas  done  in  faith  and  done  with  care, 
My  best.     'Tis  all  I  have  to  show. 
Christ  would  not  ask  me  more,  I  know. 

What  tho  resolves  have  come  to  naught; 
The  rainbow  vanished  that  I  sought. 
The  morrow's  sun  a  new  hope  brings, 
"Try,  try  again"  my  heart  it  sings. 

Why  should  I  grieve?    My  hope  deferred 
Hath  in  my  soul  ambition  stirred. 
What  tho  tonight  I  am  not  all 
I   hoped  to  be,   I  will  not  fall, 
30 


Nor  falter  in  my  life's  great  work. 
No  step  I'll  miss,  no  duty  shirk. 
Tonight  will  grant  me  peace  and  rest. 
The  morn  will  bring  whatever's  best. 

The  day  is  dead,  and  with  the  morn 
New  strength  is  given,  new  hope  is  born. 
So  midnight  hours  are  dear  to  me. 
Oh  shades  of  night,  I  welcome  thee. 


YOUR  DREAM 

And  so  you  would  dream  of  me,  dear  friend, 

And  clasp  me  to  your  heart, 
Then  steal  far  away  from  this  wideawake  world 

(Where  we  now  live  far  apart,) 

And  there  in  love's  dreamland  we'd  forget 

That  life  was  hard  and  stern; 
And  then  in  your  dream,  where  no  miles  intervene, 

Our  eager  lips  need  not  burn 

In  vain  with  desire;  for  dreamland  would  bring 

To  each  the  heart's  demand; 

And  hand  would  clasp  hand,  and  our  hearts  would  beat 
fast 

While  trodding  paths  in  dreamland. 


THE  NARROW  PATH 

The  way  is  long  and  tedious; 

The  thorns  hath  wounded  thee; 
Thy  heart,  perchance,  is  bitter 

When,  looking,  thou  dost  see 
The  broader  path,  where  marching 

Are  thousands  lingering  'long 
Bedecked  in   fairer  raiment, — 

A  happy,  careless  throng. 

But  canst  thou  see  their  pathway, 

Its  ending  and  its  length? 
To  trod  the  short  and  narrow 

Requires  the  greater  strength. 
To  thee  is  given  the  choosing; 

Yet  all  roads  lead  to  God, — 
The  long  and  oft-retrodden, 

The  short  that  Jesus  trod. 

Then  wilt  thou  loiter  idly 

Among  the   careless   throng 
That   gathers   ease  and   pleasures? 

Or   bravely   march   along 
With  those  who  fight  and  suffer, 

With  those  whose  tear  drops  fall 
To  moisten  lips  that're  thirsting, 

Who  cheer  the  hearts  that  call — 
32 


Aye,  call  for  aid  and  kindness 

That    cross-borne    souls    can   give, 
Who,  having  fought  and  conquered, 

Can  help  their  brothers   live. 
Aye,  tho  thy  feet  are  wounded, 

Thy  soul  storm  tossed  and  tried, 
And   tho   the  peopled   pathway 

Is  tempting,  fair  and  wide, 

Thy  sorrow  here  is  victory 

That  brings   a  crown  to  thee 
In  aeons  that   are  coming, 

When  others  still  will  be 
Retrodding    earth-worn    pathways 

To  win  their  crown  like  thee. 
So  bravely  bear,  nor   falter ; 

Earth's  sorrows  soon  will  flee. 

Earth  trials  well  borne  and  conquered 

Will  bring  to  thee  sweet  peace; 
Temptations   met,   resisted, 

From  sorrow  bring  release. 
I  hear  the  angel  voices — 

They're  speaking  to  thee  now : 
"Be  brave  a  little  longer 

And  peace  will  crown  thy  brow." 


33 


The  shade,  sun-spotted,  and  entrancing,  cool, 
Beneath  the  waving  branches  of  the  elms, 

Is  an  oasis  for  my  weary  feet, 

And  Oh  its  silence  all  my  soul  o'erwhelms. 

When   careworn,   here   I   lie   and  dream    sweet   dreams ; 

And  world- free  fancies  flit  all  through  my  brain; 
And  hopes  I  dare  not  utter  to  the  world 

Come  straggling  back  into  my  heart  again. 

Nor  law,  nor  cult,  nor  creed  can  say  them  nay ; 

For  God  and  love  and  peace  once  more  are  mine; 
And  all  the  texts  and  sermons  needed  now 

Are  writ  by  nature's   holy   Scribe  divine. 

The   shining  sun,   grown  weary  of  its   trail 

Across  the  sky,  sinks  now  from  out  my  sight ; 

And  all  in  slumber  leaves  the  weary  world 

Lit  only  by  the  moon  and  stars  so  bright. 

And  here  in  all  the  solemn  silence,  lone, 

Unbroken,  only  by  the  hoot  of  owl, 
I    sit    and   think    and   ponder  questions   deep : 

When  will  I  be  united  to  the  whole 

34 


Of  this  vast  sphere  of  which  I  am  a  part? 

And  need  I  live  this  earth  life  o'er  again? 
And  will  the  pangs  I  suffer  now  decrease 

The  sorrow  in  my  next  life,  and  the  pain? 

And  some  way,  something  seems  to  answer  "Aye." 

Perchance  it  is  the  wind,  or  my  own  breath. 
Be  what  it  may,  for  me  it  brings  sweet  peace 
And  takes  away  all  fear  and  sting  of  "death." 

Perchance  a  spirit  from  the  other  world 

(Which,  after  all,  cannot  be  far  away,) 

Had  heard  the  query  which  I  asked  my  soul, 

And  paused  to  answer,  ere  it  passed  away. 

Again  I  ask :    When  comes  the  end  of  all, 
Will  e'en  one  soul  be  left  apart,  alone, 

And  stretch  its  hand  yet  touch  no  kindred  one, 
And  be  apart  from  all  its  loved,  and  known? 

Once  more  I   pause  to  list  for  a  reply. 

Again  does  something  softly  whisper  "Nay." 
I  hear  no  more,  but  Oh  how  sweet  to  feel 

That  not  one  soul  is  lost  in  that  last  day. 

And  so  I  sit  and  ponder  questions  deep 

Till  flutt'ring  wings  and  chirpings  sweet  o'erhead 

Proclaim  the  dawn  of  day  has  come  once  more; 
And  rays  of  light  are  shining  overhead. 

I  slowly  wend  my  way  back  to  the  town, 

Where  toil  and  sorrow  hold  a  daily  sway; 

Where  life  and  love  are  also  to  be  found. 

And  I,  refreshed,  begin  my  duties  of  the  day. 

35 


BLINDED 

Your  blinded  eyes  look  far  beyond 

For  some  great  work  to  do, 
When  all  along  your  daily  path 

There  is  so  much  for  you. 

How  could  you  hope  for  greater  fields 

When  duties  lie  unseen 
Around  your  door?    The  sheaves  are  bound 

And  stand  for  you  to  glean. 

Why  seek  for  souls  across  the  seas 
When  men  are  starving  here 

For  one  kind  act  of  brotherhood, 
For  just  a  word  to  cheer? 

Why  shun  the  acts  Christ  did  so  oft? 

The  blind  man  by  the  way, 
The  erring  woman  at  the  well, — 

You  pass  them  every  day. 

And  yet  you  see  them — know  them  not, 

Or,  seeing,  pass  them  by. 
Could  you  not  heed  their  eager  looks, 

Or  hear  their  plaintive  cry? 
36 


Just  pause  to  look  around  your  path; 

There's  plenty  you  can  do. 
Don't  seek  a  work  beyond  your  sphere, 

There's  work  right  here  for  you. 


NATURE'S  RHYME 

You  ask  me  why  I  write  in  rhyme  ? 

All  nature  speaks  in  meter, 
And  when  I  voice  my  thoughts  in  verse 

I'm  sure  that  it  is  sweeter. 

The  surge  of  sea,  the  wings  of  birds, 
Beat  with  a  rhythmic  measure; 

The  leap  of  deer,  or  tread  of  man, 
All  come  in  metered  leisure. 

The  toss  of  bow  that  snaps  and  waves, 
The  throb  of  heart  in  sorrow, 

The  day  with  all  its  hopes  and  fears, 
And  night  that  brings  the  morrow. 

You  ask  me  why  I  love  to  rhyme? 

All  nature  speaks  in  measure, 
And  that  my  thoughts  like  nature  come, 

I  feel  'tis  quite  a  treasure. 


37 


TELEPATHY 

Once  upon  a  midnight  lately, 

As  the  trees,  so  tall  and  stately, 

Cast  their  wavering,  ghostly  shadows  on  my  bed, 

Did  my  wayward  thoughts  go  wandering 

As  I  lay  there,  restless,  pondering, 

Dreaming  dreams  that  years  ago  I  thought  long  dead. 

But  my  life  had  been  most  dreary, 

And  my  eyelids,  growing  weary, 

So  I  turned  to  seek  a  dreamless,  restful  sleep ; 

But  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  gleaming 

Kept  me  from  all  peaceful  dreaming, 

Seemed  to  say:     "A  midnight  vigil  we  will  keep." 

So  at  last  I  ceased  from  trying, 

Since  those  eyes  were  sleep-defying; 

To  my  window  then  I  crept  and  sat  and  thought : 

Why  should  eyes  so  blue  thus  haunt  me, 

With  their  merry  twinkling  taunt  me? 

And  a  reason  for  their  presence  vainly  sought. 

But  the  moonbeams'  light  now  failing, 
And  the  winds  through  treetops  sailing, 
Brought  no  answer  in  the  silence  back  to  me. 
So  I  crept  back  to  my  slumbers 
While  the  clock  ticked  countless  numbers; 
But  in  dreams  those  sparkling  eyes  were  still  with  me. 

38 


Then  a  voice   so  soft,  beguiling, 

From  sweet  lips  in  mischief  smiling, 

In  my  dreamland  solved  this  problem,  said  to  me 

As  I  lay  there  silent,  sleeping, 

Still  in  dreams  that  vigil  keeping: 

"In  these  midnight  hours  I,  too,  have  thought  of  thee." 


TO  LITTLE  "I  WILL" 

Little   boy   with  eyes   of  blue, 
What  has  life  in  store  for  you? 
Will   its  sorrow  dim  your  eyes, 
Or  great  joy  bring  you   surprise? 

Little   boy    with    heart    so   true, 

WThat  life  is  will  rest  with  you. 

Yours  'twill  be  to  do  and  dare, 

With   father's  help  and  mother's   prayer. 

Little  darling  blue-eyed  boy, 
You  will  be  a  parent's  joy. 
Shun  all  false  and  all  deceit. 
Purely,  truly,  all  things  meet. 

Bravely,   nobly,   live   your   best, 
God  and  fate  will  do  the  rest. 
Persevere.     Aim  high.     Do  right. 
God  be  with  you  day  and  night. 


39 


TO  MRS.  F.  T. 

God   bless  thee,   dear,   for  all  thy  love. 

Such  hearts  as  thine,  my  friend,  are  few. 
God  made  thee  thus  to  cheer  and  bless. 

He  gave  thee  grief,  for  well  He  knew 

That  sorrow  makes  us  tender,  kind; 

A  widow  made  He,  dear,  of  thee 
That  thou  couldst  sympathize  with  all 

And  know  the  longing  that  must  be 

Entrenched  within  the  hearts  of  all. 

A  mother  made  He  of  thee,  dear, 
That  mother-love    (so  strong  in  thee) 

Should  be  augmented ;  far  and  near 

Its  touch  should  bless  each  childless  heart, 
Each  heart  that  mourns  a  baby  kiss, 

Whose  lips  feel  ne'er  a  baby  touch. 
Aye,  many  women  mourn  for  this. 

He  gave  thee  insight  to  each  soul ; 

He  leads  thee  up  by  steps  so  steep 
That  sometimes  thou  dost  faint  and  fall, 

And  ofttimes  thou  hast  stopped  to  weep. 
40 


But,  dear,  this  sense  of  love  and  truth 

(That  comes  from  joy,  and  tears,  and  fear, 

All  sweetly  blended,)  will  make  thee 
Great  and  strong.     Let  not  a  tear 

Bedim  thine  eyes.     Let  not  a  doubt 

Find  room,  perchance,  thy  heart  to  sear. 

Just  hope,  and  love,  and  work,  and  trust, 
God  keep  and  bless  thee  always,  dear. 


POLLY  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Little  Polly  make-believe 

With  her  roguish  eye 
Says     "I'll  read  this  book  for  you, 

Just  wait  and  I  will  try." 

Then  Polly,  in  her  grandma's  specs, 
Sits  and  looks  most  wise; 

You  would  think  she  surely  knew 
Save  for  those  twinkling  eyes. 

But  some  way  thoughts  are  far  between 

Polly's  good  at  tricks, 
But  not  impromptu  reading  books, 

For  Polly's  only  six. 


FIFTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 
MR.  AND  MRS.  R. 

Fifty  years  ago  today,  friends, 

Aye,  this  year, 
Our  hearts  were  bound  and  hands  united 

Without  one  fear. 

Years  passed  lightly,  some  passed  gravely, 
Yet  our  trials  we  both  met  bravely 

Year  by  year. 

Darkened  locks  were  changed  to  silver 

Year  by  year ; 
Yet  our  youthful  love  grew  purer 

And  more  dear. 

And  the  dark  and  stormy  weather 
Seemed  but  brief,  for  both  together 

Faced  each  fear. 

Now  the  dawn  of  life  is  fading 

Year  by  year; 
Yet  the  future  has  no  shading 

In  our  fear. 

One  of  us  may  be  left  lonely 
For  a  time,  a  short  time  only, 

Lone  and  drear. 
42 


When  we  pass  through  death's  dim  portals 

Shed  no  tear. 
We  have  tried  to  give  but  gladness 

While  we're  here. 

May  the  kind  words  we  have  spoken 
Never  die,  but  linger  with  you 

Year  by  year. 


QUERY 

Oh  were  we  born  each  like  a  star, 
To  shine  a  while,  then  disappear, 
To  brighten  sorrow,  give  forth  light, 
Then  fade  away  and  say  "goodnight?" 

Or  does  our  light  seek  other  spheres 
And  grow  in  brightness  with  the  years, 
And  merging  finally  with  the  sun 
Till   both  are  blended   into  one? 


43 


GIVE  JOY 

If  you  know  a  thought  that's  pleasant, 

Tell  it.     Tell  it  to  the  world; 

For  if  kept  it  betters  no  one, 

And  we  need  good  thoughts  to  grow  on. 

Worded  thoughts  may  brighten, 

Spoken  thoughts  may  lighten 

Heavy  burdens  for  the  weary  earth. 

Then  speak  out ;  reveal  your  pleasure ; 

Share  with  all ;  conceal  no  treasure 

Of  the  mind,  but  tell,  Oh  tell  your  mirth. 

If  you  know  a  song  of  beauty, 

Sing  it.     Sing   it   for  mankind. 

Let  the  tones  ring  loud  and  joyous; 

'Tis  but  discord  that  annoys  us. 

Cheerful    songs    are   pleasant; 

Grief  is  always  present 

To  be  stifled,  crushed  by  mirth  and  song. 

Make  thy  songs  for  sorrow  healing, 

Though   thy   grief   thou   art   concealing, 

Then  thy  sorrow  cannot  linger  long. 

44 


Can  you  give  a  smile,  a  hand-grasp, 

That  will  cheer  us  on  our  way? 

Can  you  lighten  some  one's  sorrow? 

Can  you  some  one's  burden  borrow? 

Borrow  it  to  bury. 

Give  instead  words  merry. 

Let  the  world  share  of  your  joy  and  love. 

Give  the  best  that  is  within  you. 

Let  but  truth  and  virtue  win  you. 

Then  this  world  will  be  akin  to  heaven  above. 


A  THOUGHT 

A  thought  for  thee  that  thou  canst  call 

Thine  own?    A  thought  that's  not  for  all? 

In  prose  or  rhyme  wouldst  have  it  be? 

Dear  friend,  this  shall  I  wish  for  thee: 

A  heart  that's  brave   for  any  storm, 

A  heart  that  does  not  fear  to  mourn, 

A  mind  that's  filled  with  thoughts  e'er  pure, 

A  noble  life,  that  when  'tis  o'er 

We'll  miss  and  mourn  our  noble  friend. 

In  thee  may  honor,   goodness  blend. 


45 


AN  INSPIRATION 

With  tear-blinded  eyes  and  a  grief-burdened  heart, 

In  the  dimming  of  evening  I  stood 
In  my  room,  and  my  soul,  like  the  room,  was  enclosed 

With  the  walls  of  my  sad,  bitter  mood. 

The  best  that  was  in  me  I  buried  from  sight 

And  I  covered  it  deep  by  my  grief, 
And  I  cared  not,  nor  sought  not,  (I  nursed  all  my  wrath) 

To  uncover  that  God  for  relief. 

And  careless  for  mood  or  appearance  was  I, 

Altho  knowing  a  stranger  would  be 

Soon  a  guest;    (what  cared  I   when  the  world  went  so 
wrong?) 

I  was  nothing  to  him;  he,  to  me. 

So  long  have  I  looked  for  my  other  soul  self 
Who  would  bring  to  me  love  fervent,  pure, 

That  I  dreamed  not  that  Cupid  was  knocking  tonight ; 
So  I  carelessly  opened  the  door. 

And  there  stood  my  hero  of  day  dreams  oft  dreamed; 

My  ideal  of  long  dreary  years ; 
One  long,  hungering  look  in  his  soulful  blue  eyes, 

And  my  heart  cast  away  all  its  fears. 
46 


I  sat  and  I  listened  to  words  wondrous  wise 

On  the  topics  so  dear  to  my  heart, 

Tho  'twere  themes  that  the  world  would  deem  mystic  and 
vague ; 

But  to  me  of  my  life  the  best  part. 

Each  word  that  he  uttered,  each  glance  that  he  gave 
Enthralled  me  and  held  me  spell  bound ; 

Then  the  dreary  old  world  seemed  to  vanish  from  sight, 
And  a  heaven  long  sought  for  seemed  found. 

Oh  love,  undimmed  and  untarnished  by  lust, 

Nor  narrowed  by  one  selfish  thought, 
Oft  of  thee  have  I  dreamed  in  the  long  bitter  hours, 

And  thy  soul  I  so  often  have  sought. 

Dear,  I  could  have  knelt  at  thy  feet,  giving  all 
That  a  loving,  pure  wife  could  bestow ; 

To  be  clasped  in  thine  arms  and  to  meet  lip  with  lip 
Were  the  sweetest  earth-heaven  I  know. 

And  tonight  the  touch  of  thy  hand  thrilled  me  so 
That  it  seemed  I  must  clasp  it  and  hold, 

Lest  thy  spirit  should  vanish  from  me  once  again, 
But  I  could  not  be  so  seeming  bold. 

And  when  thou  hadst  gone  and  I  sat  here  alone, 
I  prayed :     "Oh,  my  God,  give  me  strength 

Just  to  make  myself  fit  for  a  love  such  as  his, 

And,  when  worthy,  wilt  Thou  grant  it  at  length?" 


47 


FOR  EVERY  CROSS  A  CROWN 

My  road,  sometimes  so  dark,  so  lone, 
Has  shadows  hovering  ever  near, 
Has  days  and  nights  dark  cursed  by  fear, 

And  yet  it  is  my  road,  my  own. 

It  is  a  road  of  patience,  pain, 

Both  for  myself  and  those  so  dear. 
Sometimes  the  end  does  not  seem  near, 

And  doubt  comes  surging  through  my  brain. 

Not  doubt  of  what  shall  be  the  end, 

Not  fear  lest  I  might  lose  my  strength 
And  falter  on  the  road  at  length, 

But  doubt  if  love  and  duty  blend. 

My  road  leads  up  to  heights  unknown ; 

The  end  is  not  a  dream  to  me; 

Its  goal  you  cannot,  do  not  see; 
I  know  my  road;  it  is  my  own. 

No  other  feet  can  tread  my  path; 

No  other  heart  can  share  my  grief; 

Or  wear  my  crown  when  comes  relief; 
Tis  mine  alone,  the  aftermath. 
48 


What   matters   when   the   goal   is   great? 

What  tho  my  road  is  pain  and  tears? 

What  tho  my  day  is  filled  with  fears? 
I  will  not  cry  or  fret  at  fate. 

For  Oh  the  glory  of  my  way. 

I  know  each  tear  drop  that  must  fall 
Makes  brighter  some  dark  spot  for  all, 

Brings  sunshine  in  some  cloudy  day. 

Without  a  murmur  or  a  moan 

I'll  scatter  seeds  of  joy,  and  give 
From  out  my  store  to  all  that  live, 

And  thus  will  earn  my  crown,  my  own. 


49 


TO 

I  wish  'twere  mine  the  power  to  send 
The  thoughts  to  help  thee  every  day ; 

I'd  burden  each  with  blessings  rare 
And  roses  sweet  ere  sent  away. 

But  lest  that  power  may  not  be  mine, 
And  thoughts  I  send  might  go  astray, 

I'll  send  thee  roses.     Each  shall  bear 

My  New  Year's  greeting,  dear,  today. 

The  rich  red  rose  true  love  doth  mean; 

The  roses  white  are  purity. 
To  thy  heart's  altar  bring  I  both; 

Each  petal  is  a  prayer  for  thee. 

And  tho  our  hands  might  ne'er  more  touch, 
Or  never  more  my  lips  meet  thine, 

My  love  would  find  thee  miles  away 

And  claim  thy  friendship.    That  is  mine. 

Now  may  each  blossom  bring  to  thee 

Real  wealth  of  friendship,  health   and   lore; 

And  may  the  fragrance  of  each  rose 

Breathe  love  and  blessings  o'er  and  o'er. 


OUR  DUTY 

We  breed  through  lust.    A  babe  is  born 
To  grow  and  be  as  we  have  been. 

When  grown  he  sins.     What  do  we  then  ? 
Forgive  him  for  his  inborn  sin? 

Not  so.    We  clamor  for  revenge 

And  for  an  eye  demand  an  eye 
As  did  the  men  in  ancient  times. 

"•Forgive" — Christ's  creed, — we  pass  it  by. 

Reform?     Oh  no,  not  we.     "Revenge" 
The  slogan  cry  (if  not  in  word 

At  least  implied  by  acts  of  ours) 

In  every  town  and  state  is  heard. 

The  future  race  lies  in  our  hands. 

Unfaithful  we,   unhonored  they. 
What  shall  we  do?    What  shall  they  be? 

An  honored  race?    Or  lustful?    Nay. 

Oh  let  us   mould  in  perfect  form 

Then  guard  and  guide  with  anxious  care, 

Lest  baby  feet  shall  stray  away. 

Let's  work  and  watch  with  hope  and  prayer. 


THE  MAN  OF  TOMORROW 

The  boy  of  today  is  the  man  of  tomorrow. 
Oh  will  he  reap  joy,  or  will  he  reap  sorrow? 
Let's  ask  of  our  hearts.    What  seed  have  we  sown 
That  must,  by  our  darlings,  in  years  hence,  be  mown  ? 

Were  industry's  seeds  scattered  round  in  his  path? 
Or  will  he  be  dull  in  life's  aftermath 
Because  we  have  failed  to  fit  him  for  work? 
Will  he,  for  our  carelessness,  life's  duties  shirk? 

The  boy  of  today  is  the  man  of  tomorrow, 

And  from  our  full  hands  he  comes  now  to  borrow 

Of  what  from  our  store,  we  willingly  give 

To  fit  him  for  manhood  and  help  him  to  live. 

Has  virtue  been  planted  with  care  in  his  heart, 
Or  will,  in  sin's  lust,  he  bear  a  sad  part? 
Has  tenderness  been  the  seed  we  have  sown? 
Then  kindness  and  love  is  the  field  to  be  mown. 

The  boy  of  today  is  the  man  of  tomorrow. 

Will  your  boy  and  mine  reap  harvests  of  sorrow? 

Oh  father  and  mother,  it  rests  now  with  you. 

Have  you  sown  the  seed  for  a  man  pure  and  true? 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  LIFE 

Life  is  a  serious  old  problem, 

And  success  is  the  answer  to  find. 

Some  say  that  luck  has  the  solving; 

But  I  know  'tis  a  question  of  mind. 

Luck  may  bring  money,  I  grant  you, 
But  is  gold  all  there  is  to  this  life? 

Wealth  cannot  buy  the  real  treasure, 

Then  don't  make  it  the  object  of  strife. 

Life  has  its  leaders  and  heroes; 

But  the  most  of  us  have  to  be  led. 
Duty  is  welcome  to  great  men, 

To  the  herd  'tis  a  matter  of  dread. 

Rather  than  face  each  new  trial 

With  a  daring  to  battle  it  through, 

Backward  we  sink,  feeble-hearted, 
As  a  cowardly  craven  would  do. 

Success   is   e'er   founded   on   failure; 

A  misnomer  is  "luck,"  just  a  fake; 
Men  who  succeed  scorn  its  tempting, 

And  they  keep  hearts  and  brains  wide  awake. 

53 


All  may  work  hard  with  the  body, 

But  'tis  few  who  will  work  with  the  mind. 

He  who  will  use  all  his  powers 

Will  soon  rank  with  the  great  of  mankind. 

Life  is  a  serious  old  problem. 

Let  us  master  its  meaning  right  now. 
Joy  in  the  loving  and  giving, 

And  in  doing,  and  in  knowing  just  how. 

Life  has  an  easy  solution 

When  we  work  with  our  heart  and  our  brain. 
Brain  power  grows  with  the  using. 

Have  we  failed  in  our. task?     Try  again. 


54 


TO  W. 

Alone  by  my  window  I'm  sitting 
And   thinking,   beloved,   of  you. 

Of  all   the  world's   friendships,   the  true   ones, 
The  pure  ones,  are  few,  very  few. 

The  night  winds  are  sobbing  and  sighing; 

The  moon  casts  its  rays  over  all; 
Yet  Nature  seems  dreary  and  restless, — 

For  you  doth  my  heart  ever  call. 

Tonight  as  I  sit  by  my  window, 

Alone  in  the  starlight  so  clear, 
Alone  with  my  thoughts  and  my  longing, 

Oh,  love,  how  I  wish  you  were  here. 

I  wish  that  your  arms  might  enfold  me 
And  take  away  from  me  this  pain, 

This  heartche;  for  if  you  were  with  me 
I'd  never  be  lonely  again. 

And  so  here  alone  in  the  gloaming 

I'm  longing  to  see  you  again. 
My  soul  cries  to  you  in  the  distance 

Tho  knowing  it  calls  all  in  vain. 

55 


My  soul  cannot  still  this  wild  worship; 

I  love,  and  you  know  I  am  true. 
Tho  many  fine  courtiers  woo  me, 

I  love,  dear,  I  love  only  you. 


HAVE  YOU  FORGOTTEN? 

Have  you  forgotten,  Oh  love  of  my  heart, 

Your  sadly  made  promise  when  last  we  did  part, 

That  you  would  still  love  me  tho  I  cast  away 

Your  love  and  your  life  that  one  cold,  dreary  day? 

You  knew  not  the  treasure  my  heart  held  so  deep; 

I  knew  we  must  part  if  my  power  I'd  keep. 

Away  from  your  life,  as  your  queen,  I  would  hold 

My  place  in  your  heart,  and  so  thus  could  unfold 

The  thing  that  was  wisest  for  both  you  and  me 

Although  it  seemed  cruel.    It  was  best,  don't  you  see? 


TOMORROW 

I  sat  and  grieved,  for  the  way  was  dark; 

I  asked  the  "why"  of  my  sorrow; 
I  moaned:     "Oh  when  will  the  end  e'er  come?" 

And  something  answered :     "Tomorrow." 

My  heart  beat  faster  as  hope  was  born. 

Would  grief  and  pain  soon  be  ended? 
And  something  sighed  as  it  then  replied : 

"No,  pain  and  joy  are  e'er  blended." 

But  still  I  waited  to  greet  the  morn; 

I  hoped  for  joy  and  for  gladness, 
And  watching  to  see  my  hope  fulfilled, 

Forgot  to  look  for  the  sadness. 

Tomorrows  came  and  tomorrows  went; 

The  star  of  hope  still  grew  brighter; 
The  faith  I  would  have  my  share  of  joy 

Had  made  my  heart  grow  much  lighter. 

And  so  one  day  did  love  come  my  way, 

And  I  forgot  all  my  sorrow. 
Then  something  whispered  so  soft  to  me : 

"Ah,  now  has  come  your  tomorrow." 

57 


And  in  the  light  of  my  new-found  love 
I  knew  my  joy  was  far  dearer 

For  having  grieved  till  sweet  hope  was  born, 
And  hoped ;  for  faith  brought  it  nearer. 

And  so  to  those  who  are  mourning  today, 
Who  sit  and  dwell  on  their  sorrow, 

Arise,  have  faith,  and  your  grief  will  dim 
And  die  in  the  joys  of  tomorrow. 

Just  hope,  and  hope,  e'en  tho  failures  come. 

If  faith  can  move  even  mountains, 
Why  then,  dear  hearts,  cannot  faith  dry  up 

The  cause  of  sorrow's   fountains  ? 

Just  watch  for  joy.     Feel  sure  it  will  come; 

The  while  forget  all  your  sorrow, 
And  I  am  sure  that  kind  fate  will  bring 

For  you  a  gladsome  tomorrow. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  SOUL 

The  realm  of  "All"  is  closed  to  mortal  view; 
The  vast  beyond  is  seen  and  sensed  by  few ; 
And  few,  perchance,  can  read  the  mystic  now ; 
They  see  the  form  and  to  its  power  bow. 

They  do  not  know  within  doth  dwell  the  real, 
And  only  time  can  this  to  them  reveal. 
We  are  not  ever  just  the  thing  we  seem. 
Sometime,   somewhere,   we'll   see   the  blinding  beam 

That  dims  our  sight  and  dulls  our  listening  ear 
To  truths  and  glories  that  are  ever  near. 
When  soul  demands  a  wider,  deeper  view 
Than  that  material  knowledge  which  it  knew, 

And  when  our  soul  puts  out  an  empty  hand 
And  seeks  for  bread,  I  know  'twill  understand. 
Some  day  'twill  know  that  all  there  is,  is  here, 
That  knowledge  lingers  through  our  doubt  and  fear. 

That  all  there  is,  is  mine  to  grasp  and  hold, 
And  love  and  truth  alone  are  purest  gold. 
Then,  Oh  my  soul,  be  not  content  with  rest, 
But  seek  and  search  with  earnest,  eager  quest. 


59 


SERVICE,  NOT  SELF 

He  is  great  whose  life  is  one  of  service; 

Strength  ne'er  came  by  force  unused,  unsought. 
Self  should  come  the  last.    The  world  thy  mission. 

Cleanse  thy  mind  from  every  selfish  thought. 

When  thy  heart   is   filled  with  fear  or  envy 
Canst  thou  give  the  world  thy  very  best? 

When  thou  grievest  over  what  thou  deemest  sorrow 
Thou  art  failing  on  life's  grander  test. 

Wouldst  rejoice  when  'round  thee  suffering  lingers? 

Hearts  are  grieving  for  a  kind  word  thou  canst  say. 
Oh,  forget  thy  selfish  grief  in  giving 

Comfort  to  the  weary  hearts  along  the  way. 

Make  each  morn  a  dawning  day  of  service. 

Let  the  noontide  see  thy  hand  outstretched  and  filled, 
And  the  night  will  find  thy  heart  with  joy  o'erflowing, 

Because  another's  grief  thy  loving  words  have  stilled. 

Didst  thou  linger  'long  the  way  till  perfect 

Ere  thou  help  to  bind  the  master's  sheaves, 

In  his  harvest  when  the  fruit  is  ripened 

Thou,  perchance,  would  nothing  bear  but  leaves. 
60 


Just  a  cup  of  water  to  the  thirsting, 

Even  tho  thy  hand  may  not  be  white. 

Just  a  glad  word  to  the  heart  that's  breaking, 
Tho  thine  own  life  may  not  be  all  bright. 

In  the  giving  thou  wilt  find  a  blessing; 

Each  kind  deed  will  bring  return  to  thee; 
And  thy  sin,  o'er  which  thou  hadst  been  fretting, 

May  be  forgiven.     Try,  my  friends,  and  see. 


61 


RESURRECTED  HOPE 

Yes,  I  have  loved,  but  love  proved  false ; 

Not  even  I  could  hold  my  power, 
Or  bind  that  love  to  me  till  death, 

Although  I  tried.    One  fatal  hour 

A  serpent,  clothed  in  garments  gay, 

Crept  to  my  throne  and  left  its  sting; 

And  love,  at  first  rebellious,  paused 

And  seeing,  hungered;  then  took  wing. 

For  one  brief  period  it  was  mine ; 

And   I,  rejoicing  in  my  right, 
Knew  not  that  it  could  tempted  be 

While   mine,   until   I   learned   its   flight. 

And  so,  one  dark  and  dismal  morn, 
Life's   loneliness   crept  over   me; 

Then,    in   my  grief,   I   looked  around 
For  other  happy  homes,  to  see 

What  secret  I  had  failed  to  learn; 

What  faults;  since  I  had  failed  to  hold 
A  virtuous  love,  of  which  I  dreamed 

Would  last,  because  of  pleadings  bold. 
62 


I  sought  and  searched ;  but  other  hearts 
I  found   like  mine,  were  seeking,  too, 

And  living  empty,  loveless  lives, 

And  drinking  not  of  balm,  but  rue. 

And  so  I  dropped  my  quest  of  love, 

That  gleamed  so  golden  in  youth's  morn, — 

In  merry,  joyous,  thoughtless  youth 

When  pleasures  breed  and  hopes  are  born. 

But  when  false  lustful  lips  can  lead 

Love's  step  away  from  home  that's  pure, 

We  realize  how  fragile,   frail, 

Love  is,  since  wanton  wiles  allure. 

The  poet  knew  who  said  of  love : 

'  'Tis  music,   song,   regret    and   tears." 

When  true,  the  heart  sings  out  its  joy; 

When  false,  the  soul  moans  out  its  fears. 

And  yet  love  pure  need  shed  no  tear 

At  death.    Lust's  reign  lasts  not  for  aye. 

Bread  cast  out  thus  comes  back  again, 

And  e'en  tho  sodden,  back  'twill  stray. 

And  then  the  serpent  heart  will  taste 

The  thing  it  sent,  e'en  though  'tis  gall, 

Must  taste,  and  eat  each  crumb  sent  out, 
E'en  tho  repenting  tears  may  fall. 

And  I  ?    Well,  having  loved  and  lost, 
And  moaned  my  sorrow,  ere  I  flung 

The  worthless  carcass  from  my  heart, 
My  lyre,  in  reborn  hope,  I  strung. 

63 


Once  more  my  heart  beat  full  of  hope ; 

And  youth's  ambition,  not  quite  dead, 
Nor  crushed  entirely  from  my  heart, 

(My  weaker  love  when  I  was  wed,) 

Once  more  I  say,  those  hopes  dared  rise, 
And  rising,  bold,  assert  their  sway; 

And  I,  obeying  their  demand, 

Breathe  forth  these  fancies  here  today. 

Henceforth  for  me  a  wider  field 
Than  man  alone;  and  if  I  sing 

One  humble  song  to  cheer  the  heart, — 
If  courage,  joy,  my  lines  may  bring 

To  other  hearts,  or  e'en  perchance, 

To  one  sad  soul  among  the  throng, 

I  shall  not  deem  my  sorrow  vain ; 
Shall  not  regret  I  sang  the  song. 

But  should  some  minor  strains  creep  in, 
Some  lines  be  sad,  Oh  reader,  say: 

"This  author,  too,  like  us,  has  wept, 

But  conquered  grief,  as  we  all  may." 


64 


HELP  THE  WORLD 

Let  us  moan,  not  that  life's  misery 

Seemeth  greater  than  its  mirth; 
Weeping  eyes  but  dim  our  efforts ; 

Let  us  work  for  all  we're  worth. 

Let  us  help  each  fallen  brother 

With  our  outstretched  willing  hand; 

As  he  faintly,  weakly  rises 

Let  us  bravely  by  him  stand. 

Let  us  make  some  pale  face  brighter; 

Give  food  that  makes  weak  hearts  grow  strong; 
Let  us  make  a  burden  lighter 

For  some  one  as  we  go  'long. 

Let  us  stop  the  wail  of  childhood 

That  grows  fainter  with  each  cry; 
Let  us  stop  the  moans  of  mothers 

That  are  struggling  lest  they  die. 

Let  us  jeer  not  at  another, 

For  his  path  is  not  our  own ; 
And  his  harvest  is  his  gathering, 

For  we  reap  what  we  have  sown. 

65 


Words  are  keen  and  actions  caustic 

When  hate  reigns  within  our  brain; 

And  our  scorn  can  send  a  brother 
On  a  hellward  road  again. 

What  the  world  needs  is  not  critics, 
But  'tis  models  brave  and  strong; 

Cease  thou  then  thy  condemnation; 

Help  the  world  by  love's  sweet  song. 


66 


YOU  CANNOT  FORGET 

You  tread  your  path  with  smiling  face, 
Yet  I  alone  the  grief  can  trace. 
You  thought  the  day  law  made  us  twain 
You  could  forget,  but  'tis  in  vain. 

You  know  the  day  you  sought  my  side 
And  begged  for  hope  to  call  me  "bride?" 
A  rudely  ended  dream  divine  ! 
For  I'm  not  yours ;  and  you,  not  mine. 

In  daily  life  you  hold  your  head 
With  genial  smile  and  manly  tread. 
You  think  deceit  will  hide  your  past 
And  crush  regret,  that  aye  will  last. 

But  way  from  sight  and  sound  of  men 
An  endless  grief  comes  o'er  you,  when 
On  mem'ry's  page  you  sadly  trace 
The  love  that's  dead  and  baby's  face. 

And  in  those  secret  hours  alone 

Your  heart  cries  for  the  love  that's  gone. 

And  tho  no  human  eye  can  see 

Your  soul  cries  out  for  her  and  me. 

67 


And  thus  your  fate  you  cannot  hide. 
None  other  can  be  truly  bride. 
A  magic  spell  binds  you  to  me ; 
Its  strength  you  cannot  break  or  see. 

For  once  you  bound  by  seal  and  sign 
My  love  and  proudly  said :    "  'Tis  mine." 
But  seal  nor  sign,  nor  law  can  hold 
When  only  lustful  arms  enfold; 

When  kisses  foul  with  stench  of  sin 
From  wanton  lips  could  from  you  win 
Your  honor,  virtue,  manhood  pure, 
'Twas  time  our  plighted  days  were  o'er. 

And  so  I  left  you  to  be  free, 
To  bask  in  lust  apart  from  me. 
But  this  I  know — you'll  ne'er  forget 
A  wjife  and  babe.     For  grief,  regret, 

And  secret  shame  will  dim  each  day 
And  shade  each  night  where  e'er  you  stray. 
God's  law  cannot  be  disobeyed. 
You  sinned  and  now  your  sin  is  weighed. 


68 


LOVE'S  TOKEN 

You  ask  me,  dear,  to  send  a  kiss. 
I'll  try  to  please  you  once  in  this. 
You  ask  for  length,  "no  tiny  smack." 
So  if  your  lips  no  sweetness  lack, 

I'll  linger  long  with  right  good  will. 
Come,  sweetheart  mine,  and  take  your  fill 
Of  nectar  rare — of  life's  sweet  wine. 
Nor  ask  for  more,  beloved  mine, 

When  hearts  beat  fast  and  pulses  thrill, 
And  roses  creep  with  right  good  will 
O'er  neck  and  cheeks  and  once  pale  brow. 
But  ere  you  sip,  dear,  you  must  vow 

That  I  alone  must  o'er  love  reign 

With  you  my  slave,  if  oft  again 

You'd  seek  the  source  of  love's  sweet  stream. 

For  kisses  long  (so  like  a  dream 

Ye  gods,  how  sweet  the  while  they  last ! ) 
May  end  in  grief  when  they  are  past. 
So,  sweetheart  mine,  one  head  must  rule; 
Both  hearts  can  love,  if  one  keep  cool. 

Aye,  Bobby  knew  the  truth  too  well, — 
The  road  to  love  can  lead  to  hell. 
But  give  this  vow,  beloved,  to  me, 
And  to  your  arms  I'll  gladly  flee. 

69 


LOVE  VS.  LAW 

Law  says  I  must  not  seek  you, 
Love  says  you're  only  mine; 

And  which  shall  rule,  the  man-made  law, 
Or  God-made  law  divine? 

Law  bound  you  to  another, 

Love   gave  you  all   to  me ; 

Shall  priestly  cant  divide  us,  dear, 
Or  shall  love  set  you  free? 

I  would  not  ask  you  once,  dear, 

Did  I  not  know  your  heart, 
And  that  you  scorn  the  hateful  bond 

That  keeps  us  far  apart. 

God  made  no  loveless  marriage, 
And  thoughtlessness  of  youth 

Should  not  be  cursed  a  lifetime,  dear, 
But  overcome  by  truth. 

And  e'en  tho  law  divides  us, 

Love  pleads  my  case  for  me. 

Shall  priestly  cant  divide  us,  dear, 
Or  shall  love  set  vou  free? 


70 


LONGING 

Perchance,  dear  friend,  my  lines  may  seem 
Unwelcome,   since  unsought; 

But  still  my  heart  goes  out  to  thee, 
And  can  it  be  for  naught? 

I  cannot  still  my  longing,  dear, 

To  be  with  thee  tonight. 
I  pray  that  God  may  keep  thee  safe 

In  paths  of  truth  and  right. 

I  cannot  still  this  earnest  wish 

To  place  my  hand  in  thine 
And  see  within  thine  eyes  the  love 

That  thou  hast  said  was  mine. 

What  tho  'tis  love  but  for  a  day? 

Can  pure  love  come  amiss, 
And  could  it  die  at  close  of  day 

If  sanctioned  with  a  kiss? 

Can  love  that's  pure  e'er  dim  the  day 
That  gave  it  birth,  sweetheart? 

The  joy  it  brought  would  linger  still 
And  of  all  life  be  part. 


In  future  days  when  love  was  not, 
The  heart  would  still   recall 

The  sweetness  of  one  loving  kiss 
In  which  love  gave  its  all. 

And  so  tonight  wouldst  thou  wert  here 

Sweetheart  so   far  away. 
May  angels  watch  and  guide  thee,  dear, 

Through  every  night  and  day. 


A  REPLY 

You  ask  of  me,  did  I  forget 

The  days  that  once  we  thought  so  dear. 
Dear  friend,  it  sadly  grieves  me  now 

That  in  thy  heart  should  be  one  fear 
Lest  I,  midst  new  and  binding  ties, 
Remember   not. 

A  wife  was  I,  and  also  thou; 

And  yet  that  severed  not  our  tie; 
And  still  another  sweeter  bond 

Hath  come  to  both,  for  you  and  I 
Have  kissed  sweet  childish  lips.     To  both 
Came  motherhood. 

Alike  have  we  each  lived  our  lives 
Apart,  and  yet  in  love,  still  one. 

Our  thoughts  for  each  as  firm  and  true 
As  when  our  friendship  first  begun. 

The  years  now  passed  since  "long  ago" 
Have  been  our  test. 

And  glad  am  I  that  sorrow  great 

Has  furrowed  not  thy  brow  so  fair; 

Nor  hath  great  sadness  come  to  me. 
The  silver  strands  that  in  my  hair 

Thou  seest,  came  from  time's  own  touch, 
And  not  from  grief. 

73 


'Twas  in  those  olden  days,  dear  friend, 
I  set  my  love  in  rhyme  for  thee. 

Today   I   read  those   simple  lines 

I  wrote  when  thou  and  I  were  free, 

And  not  a  care  to  come  between. 
But  now  we're  bound. 

And  so,  my  friend,  though  oft  thy  heart 
Has  called  to  me  and  I  came  not, 

Yet  still  my  thoughts  have  been  of  thee. 
My  love  to  thee  has  gone  unsought 

Each  day.    Has  not  some  unseen  elf 
Told  thee  my  thoughts? 

Let  thine  own  heart  be  judge  for  thee 

When  thou  must  ask  "has  she  forgot?" 

Thou  knowest  well  my  love  is  thine. 
Cast  off  all   fears,  distrust  me  not. 

Thy  friend  I'll  be  till  death  do  part; 
Till  death,  dear  friend. 


74 


MISSING  SAMBO 

Daylight  was  grown  tired  when  little  Sambo  crept  away 
Just  to  hear  the  white  folks  talk  and  see  their  children 

play. 

Peeking  through  the  fence  he  sat,  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep ; 
When  his  mammy  called  him  he  in  slumberland  was  deep. 

She  hunts  him  in  the  woodshed,  but  no  darkey  boy  is 

found ; 

He  answers  not  her  calling  for  he's  sleeping,  Oh  so  sound. 
"He's  done  gone  in  the  roadside."     She  goes  out  there 

to  see. 
But  not  a  sight  of  kinky  head.    "Oh  where,  Oh  where  is 

he?" 

"De  debil  must  a  cotched  him.     I  find  him  not  a  place. 
I  tinks  I  hunted  eberywhar,  but  I  can't  fin'  a  trace." 
She  hunted  in  the  cellar,  and  behind  the  stove  and  door. 
"Why  sure,  he  must  be  in  the  barn."    She  did  not  think 
before. 

She  hopes  she  soon  will  find  him,  her  little  kinky  head. 
'Tis  late  and  little  coon  is  missing  from  his  trundle  bed. 
She  looks  in  every  horse's  stall,  and  in  the  hay-mow  high. 
Then  little  Sambo  wakens  up,  and  gives  a  sleepy  sigh. 

75 


When  mammy  starts  back  to  the  house  she  sees  a  shadow 

small 
Just  sitting  there  beside  the  fence.     She  gives  a  joyful 

call. 

And  when  he  runs  to  her  she  hugs  his  kinky  little  head, 
And  now  no  coon  is  missing  from  his  little  trundle  bed. 


NEW  HOPE 

Every  morn  should  bring  new  hope 
That  life  has  been  reborn  once  more, 
That  all  our  past,  so  full  of  grief 
And  marred  by  error,  now  is  o'er. 
Every  morn  should  find  grief  gone 
And  buried  with  the  night  that's  past ; 
For  grief   and   sin   live   not   for   aye, 
And  only  love  and  truth  can  last, 
For  both  are  good  and  good  is  God, 
And  all  his  lawte  are  wise  and  just. 
Let  every  morn  find  hearts  refilled 
With  joy,  ambition,  love  and  trust. 


76 


MY  PROMISE 

Last  evening  the  old  year  lay  dying; 

His  form  had  grown  weary  and  wan. 
We  fain  would  have  kept  him  still  longer, 

But  while  we  were  watching  he'd  gone. 

As  Time  bore  the  corpse  from  our  presence 
The  young,  happy  New  Year  came  in. 

He  held  in  his  arms  precious  talents 

And  said :    "These  are  yours  if  you  win ; 

I  gladly  will  give  you  the  moments ; 

In  you  lies  the  power  to  do; 
There's  naught  to  prevent  if  you  say  so, 

For  strength  has  been  given  to  you. 

Accept  of  the  heritage  brought  you; 

Prove  worthy,  these  gifts   I'll  bestow 
At  your  feet,  and  you  the   possessor 

Of  honor.     Will  you  try  ere  I  go?" 

I  blushed  as  I  thought  of  the  Old  Year, 
Of  promises  made  and  not  kept. 

I  thought  of  the  hours  and  days  wasted; 
I  lowered  my  head  and  I  wept. 

77 


But  dear,  happy  New  Year  then  whispered: 
"Don't  mourn  for  the  failures  you've  had; 

I  know  that  each  mortal  is  human, — 
That  you  did  not  mean  to  be  bad. 

So  lift  up  your  head  and  look  forward; 

Just  try  day  by  day  to  do  right; 
The  past  taught  its  lessons;  forget  it. 

Each  day  of  the  future  is  bright." 

I  listened  to  pleadings  of  New  Year; 

How  could  I  deny  his  request? 
So  bravely  I  promised.     I'm  willing 

Each  day  just  to  live  at  my  best. 


TO 

I  love  you,  dear,  a  love  that  asks  for  naught 
Save  this :  to  worship  you,  e'en  tho  afar ; 

To  pray  for  you  and  to  look  up  to  you 

As  an  earth-bound  soul  looks  to  a  heaven-lit  star. 

I  know  I  have  your  friendship  and  your  faith; 

I   know   that   there    are    times — tho   they   be    few- 
Amidst  your  busy,  noble  life  career, 

You  think  of  me,  dear,  as  I  think  of  you. 

You  are  so  good,  so  tender,  patient,  kind, 
That,  when  alone,  I  sit  and  think  of  you, 

And  teardrops  fill  my  eyes ; — tho  not  in  grief — 

How  could  I  grieve  with  such  a  friend  that's  true? 

E'en  this  were  bliss, — to  know  that  I  have  said 
"I  love  you,  dear,"  and  that  you  chided  not 

My  words,  the  truth  of  which  you  knew  long  ere 
My  lips  had  dared  to  speak  or  voice  the  thought. 

I  love  you  dear.    Canst  know  how  much,  how  true  ? 

In  secret  oft  my  heart  for  you  does  yearn. 
I  try  to  stifle  all  the  longing,  dear, 

And  ask,  or  hope  for  nothing  in  return. 

79 


And  yet  I  hope,  as  ages  pass  away, 

And  earth  bonds  break  and  fade,  we'll  hear  and  know 
The  cry  of  each,  and  I  may  find  you,  dear, 

And  finding,  keep.    For  Oh,  I  love  you  so. 


TO  ARTHUR  KELLOGG,  THE  BLIND 
PROFESSOR  OF  MUSIC 

There  is  no  height  to  which  thou  canst  not  climb, 

E'en  though  thou  treadest  through  a  darkened  way. 

Just  work  and  trust.     Have  faith  in  God  and  self. 
The  goal  must  come  some  sweet  and  dawning  day. 

Remember  this :  More  patience  must  be  thine 
Than  beats  in  hearts  of  worldly  seeing  man; 

And  yet  more  glory  will  be  thine,  dear  friend, 
If  thou'lt  be  patient  and  e'er  say  "I  can." 

In  knowing  thou  hast  worked  where  others  grieved, 
In  feeling  thou  hast  bravely  borne  thy  grief, 

And  all  the  greater  effort  thou  must  make, 

Will  make  the  greater  joy  when  comes  relief. 

So  bravely  work,  nor  falter  not,  my  friend ; 

Oh  faint  not  on  life's  long  and  darkened  way. 
No  failure  comes  to  him  whose  heart  is  brave. 

Look  up  and  trust.    Love's  light  will  come  some  day. 


80 


EVENING  PRAYER  FOR  TRUTH 
SEEKERS'  CLUB 

We  would  come,  Oh,  Lord  of  Love, 

That  we  might  commune  with  Thee, 

And   we   ask — just   for  tonight — 
That  our  spirits  shall  be  free 

From  life's  turmoil  and  its  woe, 

From  its  sorrows  and  its  cares ; 

For  we  seek  more  love  and  peace, 
More  of  patience,  more  of  prayer. 

We  would  see  Thee,  God  of  Love, 

Glorified  in  man  once  more, 
Not  in  man,  in  one  alone, 

But  in  all,  and  all  adore. 

Help   us   consecrate   ourselves 

That  our  eyes  may  see  no  ill; 
Or,  if  seeing,  we  may  know 

Back  of  seeming,   good   is  still. 

Help  us  shut  our  ears  to  thoughts 

That  might  crush  some  human  soul 

In  its  upward  soaring  flight 
To  a  perfect  final  goal. 
81 


To  all  thoughts  impure  and  low, 
And  to  harsh  words  we  may  hear, 

Help  us  answer  not  in  kind; 
Help  us  turn  a  deafened  ear. 

Guide  our  tongues,  Oh  Lord  of  Love; 

Teach  us  what  and  how  to  say 
Thoughts  to  lighten  others'  woe, 

And  make  bright  some  darkened  way. 

Help  us  gain,  while  meeting  here, 
Strength  to  do  each  daily  task. 

Not  a  life  of  pleasure,  ease, 

Do  we  come,  dear  Lord,  to  ask. 

As  Thou  wilt,  so  would  we  do. 

Not  one  duty  shall  we  slight. 
Keep  us  loving,  brave  and  true. 

Guide  and  bless  each  one  tonight. 


PREPARED  FOR  WAR 

Each  day  our  army,  navy  calls 

Our  sons  from  home,  our  sweethearts,  too, 
Lest  conflict  comes  and  finds  us  weak; 

"Prepared  for  war."     Ah,  yes;  'tis  true. 

Our  homes  made  weak,  our  dollars  spent, 
That  we  may  be  prepared  to  kill; 

Each  nation  seeks  to  rival  each 
In  battleships  with  hearty  will. 

Oh  what  a  good  world  this  might  be 

If  every  nation  spent  as  much 
Of  time  and  money  to  have  peace; 

Each  bound  to  each  by  love's  sweet  touch. 

It  always  has  been,  always  may, 

That  what  we  give  comes  back  again; 

We're  crowned,  but  for  a  day  by  force; 

When  crushed  we  moan  our  loss  and  pain. 

"The  Moslems" — once  a  word  for  fear, 
As  Turkey,  Spain,  they  overswept; 

But  where  today  that  race  of  strength? 
A  conquered  people  and  unwept. 

83 


"All  roads  lead  into  Rome,"  'twas  said; 

She  ruled  the  world  with  mighty  pride; 
But  where  today  those  Romans  great? 

Oh  Rome  has  fallen.     Her  power  has  died. 

Napoleon  won  his  fame  by  force; 

Napoleon,  once  a  nation's  pride — 
By  force  was  conquered,  and  the  rights 

Of  home  and  native  land  denied. 

Old  England  thought  to  crush  us  once, 

But  with  the  sword  we  proved  our  might, 

And  o'er  this  land  our  flag  still  waves 

Proclaiming  that  our  cause  was  right. 

And  so  today  we  reign  supreme; 

Tomorrow — who,   alas  !    can   say  ? 
We  hear  faint  rumors  that  Japan 

Is  watching  and  may  come  our  way. 

But  this  I  know:  if  war  should  come 

We'll  prove  our  strength,  or  fighting,  fall. 

God  grant  sometime  the  day  will  come 
We'll  have  no  need  for  war  at  all, 

And  every  nation  have  no  foe, 

But  brothers   every  man  shall  be. 

God  give  us  peace,  a  worldwide  peace, 
From  fear  of  war  we'll  then  be  free. 


84 


LIFE'S  MUSIC 

In  life's  fair  fitful  morn,  we  first 

Sing  joyous  strains,  in  tones  most  sweet; 
No  minor  melody  is  ours, 

But  joy  and  love  and  hope  we  greet. 

Our  nimble  fingers  play  with  ease 

Each  note.     Each  chord,  a  hope  new  born, 
Rings  loud  and  clear  beneath  our  touch, 

In  life's   fair,   hopeful,   happy   morn. 

A  parent's  love  attunes  our  hearts, 

And  turns  not  sorrow's  sadder  page. 

The  dirges  come  in  later  life. 

The  postlude  comes,  but  comes  with  age. 

In  anxious  haste  we  turn  the  page 
To  newer  notes,  yet  knowing  not 

That,  at  the  end,  we  fain  would  choose 

The  first  bright  strains  that  we  were  taught. 

Our  life  seems  one  long  dream  of  love; 

The  music's  page,  a  sweet  refrain, 
O'er  which  we  linger  lovingly, 

And  beg  to  play  that  part  again. 

85 


A  master's  hand  slow  turns  the  page, 

And  lo!  the  time  and  key  have  turned 

To  minor,  with  its  low,  sad  chords. 

The  grief  of  life  our  soul  has  learned. 

We  play  the  part  adagio, 

While  on  our  hand  the  teardrops  fall, 
And  youth  and  hope  and  love  seem  gone,— 

We  sadly  ask:   where  are  they  all. 

We  pause  to  see  if  hands  more  skilled 
Will  take  our  place  that  we  might  rest, 

Or  search  for  strains  of  joyous  vein; 
But  fate  refuses  our  request. 

A  master's  kindly  voice  says:    "No, 
No  hero  he  who   falters   now; 

No  artist  he  who  fails  the  test; 

No  laurel  decks  the  coward's  brow. 

Each  one  must  play  what  he  began." 
And  so  we  take  our  work  again; 

Mid  blinding  tears  we  see  the  notes 

And  play  the  end  of  life's  sad  strain. 

And  when   the  tones   triumphant  end, 
And  life's  concerto  is  all  done, 

And  on  our  brow  the  laurel  wreath 
That  we  have  gladly,  nobly  won, 

The  master  takes  our  weary  hands 
In  his  own  kindly,  gentle  grasp, 

And  gladly,  proudly,  says:     "Well  done, 
Dear  heart,  well  done  has  been  thy  task. 
86 


Thou  knowest  what  I  knew  so  well: — 
That  minor  must  be  played  by  all, 

Ere  we  can  know  what  major  means, 

For  saddened  strains  must  come  to  all. 

In  life's  concerto  all  must  learn 
The  two  most  fitly,  wisely  blend; 

And  he  who  plays  both  parts  with  care, 

Is  glad  for  both  when  comes  the  end." 


TIME  AND  SPACE 

Space  is  only  of  man's  making, 
Earth  an  atom  of  the  whole; 

Life  herein  is  but  a  moment; 

So-called  death  is  not  the  goal. 

Man  made  terms  delay  no  progress 
Tho  their  truth  we  may  avow. 

Time  and  space  are  only  seeming; 
We  express  ourselves  in  now, 

For  today  is  ours;  tomorrow 

Where  or  what,  we  cannot  tell, 

And  the  past  beyond  recalling; 
Let  us  live  the  present  well. 

Let  us  do  each  day  the  duties 

That  will  make  for  honest  truth ; 

Grieve  no  past;  nor  fear  no  future; 
Live  today  life's  happy  youth. 

Keep  our  conscience  free  from  grieving 
Over  good  we  have  not  done. 

Tho  we  strive  with  sin's  temptations, 
Let's  rejoice  o'er  victories  won. 


88 


HOW  LONG  IS  DAY 

The  day  is  long  and  dark  and  drear 
When  love  has  died  without  one  tear; 
When  hearts  thrill  not  when  cheeks  are  kissed, 
When  longing  lips  their  ksss  have  missed. 

The  day  is  long  when  all  in  vain 
Love  waits  a  step  that  ne'er  comes  again. 
When  hearts  must  ache  and  eyes  must  weep 
And  o'er  a  bier  their  vigil  keep. 

Aye,  long  the  day  when  forms  are  bent 
By  toil  and  grief  the  world  has  sent, 
And  when  no  aid  man  gives  to  man, 
And  self  for  self  does  all  it  can. 

But  short  the  day,  and  joy  it  gives 
When  hope  exists  and  true  love  lives ; 
When  each  lone  heart  has  found  its  mate 
And  love's  reward  is  not  "too  late." 

Aye  short  the  day  when  hearts  are  filled 
With  human  brotherhood,  and  thrilled 
By  pressure  of  one  grateful  hand 
That  otherwise  would  lonely  stand. 

89 


No  day  is  long,  tho  eyes  do  weep 

And  o'er  death's  coffin  vigil  keep, 

If  we  but  knew  that  it  is  best 

Our  dear  ones  leave  earth's  trials  to  rest 

Within    another    sphere    where    we, 
Perchance,  may  touch  them  not  or  see, 
Till  our  earth  mission  is  complete, 
When  we  again  our  loved  will  meet. 

A  loveless   life — a  dreary  way; 
A  love-kissed  life  brings  joy  each  day. 
Aye,  long  the  day  if  hope  is  dead, 
But  short,  when  hope  by  love  is  fed. 


MAKE  HEAVEN  EACH  DAY 

Joyfully,  cheerfully,  work  your  way  'long, 
Making  companions  more  bright  by  your  song, 
Fleeing  from  sadness  and  gloom  all  the  while, 
Meeting  alike  friend  and  foe  with  a  smile. 

See  how  the  sun  shines  o'er  valley  and  hill; 
E'en  tho  the  rain  pours,  the  sun's  shining  still; 
List  to  the  birds  as  they  carol  their  lay. 
Life  can  be  gladsome.     To  grief  just  say  nay. 

See  how  the  buds  wave  their  bright  fragrant  heads; 
Catch  the  white  flakes  that  the  apple  tree  sheds; 
Drink  in  the  perfume  of  lily  and  rose; 
Kneel  to  the  pansy  that  modestly  grows. 

Yes,  this  old  world  is  one  sweet,  joyous  song; 
Join  its  refrain  as  you  journey  along. 
Love  has  been  kind  to  you;  share  with  your  friends; 
Nothing  you  have  is  yours, — God  only  lends. 

Blessings   are  multiplied  when  they  are  shared; 
Bright,  happy  hearts  to  the  world  should  be  bared. 
Smile  'long  life's  pathway,  and  smiles  will  come  back. 
Give  pleasant  words,  and  no  kindness  you'll  lack. 


Happy,  contented,  with  all  that  fate  gives; 
Cheerful  and  kind  to  each  creature  that  lives. 
Shun  all  that's  sad,  or  dispel  it  by  cheer; 
Always  give  sunshine ;  help  banish  all  fear. 

Thankfully,   cheerfully,   work  your  way   'long; 
Make  all  the  world  bright  by  kindness  and  song; 
Don't  preach  a  heaven  that's  far,  far  away. — 
Make  it  right  here  on  earth.     Make  it  each  day. 


92 


BEGGARS  AT  THE  GATE  OF  GOLD 

At  the  golden  gate  the  beggars  sit; 

Yet  they  were  men  once  noble,  true, 
With  hearts  unscathed  by  misers'  greed, 

When  life  was  young,  and  love  was  true. 

Life's  pathway  seemed  so  long  to  them, 
And  wealth  a  treasure  hard  to  get ; 

And  as  the  days  passed  slowly  by, 

Greed  wove  around  their  hearts  a  net. 

And  for  a  time  they  tried  to  free 

Their  captive  hearts,  but  all  in  vain; 

For  ere  they  broke  the  fetters  loose, 

Like  Lot,   they   turned   to  look   again. 

And  looked  and  longed,  as  all  men  do 

Who  taste  the  first  red  cup  of  wine ; 

They  reached  and  finding  what  they  sought, 
Rejoiced  a  fortune  they  thought  fine. 

Then   not   content  with  what   they  had, 
Began  to  reach  and  grasp  again, 

And  failed  to  see  their  greed  destroyed 

Their  better  selves;  for  Love,  now  slain, 

93 


Was  never  known  to  move  their  hearts 
With  pity   toward   their   fellow-men 

As  it  had  done  in  days  gone  by. 

Love  crushed  by  greed  dies  hard.    So  when, 

As  time  passed  by  and  years  had  gone, 
Their  weary  forms  were  laid  to  rest, 

And  they  were  placed  in  caskets  fine, 

(Their  bodies  clothed  in  suits  the  best) 

Their  souls  passed  on  to  heaven's  gate; 

St.  Peter  would  not  let  them  in, 
But  bade  them  take  earth  forms  again 

And  first  atone  for  all  their  sin. 

He  sent  them  to  the  gate  of  gold, 

Where  they  must  beg  their  alms  each  day; 
And,   till    their    hearts    are   true    and   pure 

And  freed  from  greed,  there  they  must  stay. 


94 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  F. 

In  long  years  ago,  aye,  'tis  fifty  now, 

When  life  seemed  but  one  gladsome  truth, 

And  both  your  hearts  beat  fast  with  joy, 
In  the  golden  glow  of  happy  youth, 

Were  your  lives  united  in  one  sweet  bond. 

You  had  no  gloom  nor  ghastly  fear 
Lest  plighted   faith   might  sadly  stray 

And  leave  one  heart  alone  and  drear. 

And  though  both  have  tasted  of  sorrow's  cup, 
Your  hearts  ne'er  yielded  to  despair; 

And  though  your  golden  locks  are  gray, 
Still  to  your  eyes  the  world  is  fair. 

You  are  still  united  in  love  and  life; 

Your  youth-born  hope  has  proven  true; 
And  love  is  sweet  and  home  is  dear. 

Today  that  vow  you  breathe  anew. 

And  today  we  give  you  three  hearty  cheers; 

For  in  this  age,  though  vows  are  made, 
They're  sadly  kept,  or,  not  at  all; 

For  husbands,  wives,  have  wrongly  strayed. 

95 


But  these  fifty  years  of  your  union  prove 
That  love  is  true  and  can  endure 

All  trials,  if  each  will  truly  try 

And  if  each  heart  is  brave  and  pure. 

And  today  you  sit  in  life's  eventide, 

And  all  its  lessons  have  been  learned; 

And  all  its  trials  have  been  well  met, 
And  you  a  rich  reward  have  earned. 

Though  the  graying  gloom  of  your  life  seems  near, 

We   wish  its   ending   far  away. 
May  health,  and  joy,  and  peace  be  yours 

We  all  would  wish  for  you  today. 


LIVE  YOUR  SERMONS 

Oh  there  are  folks  we  see  each  day 
Who  have  a  creed,  or  so  they  say, 

That  just  would  fit  our  special  need, — 
Altho  it  seems  they  do  not  heed 

(Except  one  day)  the  creed  they  preach 
And  to  their  friends  so  freely  teach. 

Now  what  care  I  for  cult  or  creed 

That  does  not  help  each  daily  need ; 

That  does  not  make  life  seem  more  sweet 
If  not  for  me — for  those  I  meet; 

That  does  not  teach  the  good  in  all 
The  joys  and  sorrows  that  befall 

Each  heart  as  lone  it  treads  its  path 
From  earth  on  to  Love's  aftermath. 

Now  when  their  creed  does  not  teach  this 
I'm  sure  I'd  very  gladly  miss 

Their  sermons  and  their  texts  so  long, 

Altho,  perchance,  they're  not  all  wrong, 

(For  every  sermon  has  some  good 

That  we  should  seek,   I'm  sure  we  could.) 

97 


But  when  they  prove  their  texts  by  deeds, 
And  try  to  heal  all  human  needs, 

And  not  take  all  their  time  to  preach, 
I'll  gladly  list  to  what  they  teach. 

Oh  don't  be  always  preaching,  friends, 

But  live  the  creed  you  preach.    It  lends 

To  creeds  a  better,  stronger  play, 

And  proves  the  worth  of  what  you  say. 


THE  HIGHWAY  OF  LIFE 

The  highways  and  byways  are  blooming  and  bright; 

Earth's  roses  are  blowing  o'er  dale  and  o'er  dell ; 
Their  perfumes  are  carried  on  wings  of  the  wind; 

Each  blossom  is  opening,  each  budlet  will  swell. 

But  soon  comes  the  season  when  earth  will  be  brown; 

Each  flower  will  fade,  and  each  petal  will  fall; 
For  God  made  no  season  to  last  the  year  round, 

And  each  hath  its  glory  and  beauty  for  all. 

The  highways  of  life  can  be  blooming  and  bright 
If  we  will  but  nourish  love's  roses  so  sweet; 

If  we  will  but  scatter  kind  words  and  sweet  smiles, 
Thus  brightening  the  pathway  for  many  tired  feet. 

Alas !    On  some  highways  are  trampled  and  torn 

The  blossoms  that  might  have  been  blooming  so  fair 

Had  selfishness,  envy,  deceit,  and  distrust 

Been  thwarted,  not  nourished  and  given  most  care, 

Thus  crowding  and  crushing  out  tenderer  plants 

Whose  seeds  God  hath  sown  in  each  young  childish 
heart. 

E'en  weeds  hath  their  blossoms  and  beauty  therein, 
If  we  will  but  seek  for  the  beauty  apart. 

99 


And  no  life  so  saddened  but  still  hath  some  joy 

If  we  will  but  shut  from  our  minds  all  the  grief, 

And  share  with  the  world  the  few  blessings  we  have; 
Those  blessings  will  grow,  and  thy  heart  give  relief. 

Then  seek  'for  the  sunshine,  that  blossoms  may  bloom 
And  brighten  thy  pathway  that  others  might  see, 

And  seeing,  do  likewise.     Were  each  pathway  dark, 
A  dreary  and  desolate  world  this  would  be. 

We  make  of  this  life  what  we  wish,  you  and  I; 

It  rests  with  each  one  to  make  his  pathway  bright, 
To  give  of  his  gloom,  or  to  share  of  his  joy, 

And  each  full  of  sunshine,  the  whole  will  be  right. 

Breathe  blessings  of  brightness.     Give  no  room  to  grief. 

Leave  self  to  thy  Maker.     Make  others  thy  care. 
Make  not  of  life's  pathway  a  barren  waste  brown, 

But  give  of  love's  roses,  rich,  radiant,  and  rare. 


100 


GRIEVE  NOT 

Why  need  you  stand  and  moan  for  hours  misspent 
And  waste  the  present  in  a  vain  regret? 

No  tears  e'er  blotted  out  one  deed  of  shame 
That  on  the  pages  of  the  past  was  set. 

A  coward  he  who  moans  and  grieves  a  past; 

No  hero  he  who  sheds  a  useless  tear; 
A  child  would  whine  and  grieve  a  plaything  gone, — 

A  man  would  greet  the  present  without  fear. 

If  you  your  past  misdeeds  can  see,  and  know 

Wherein  you  erred,  tho  at  the  time  so  blind, 

This  wisdom  is  the  lesson  of  your  sins 

To  heed,  but  not  with  grieving  blur  your  mind. 

The  duties  of  today  alone  are  yours; 

Don't  dim  its  sunshine  by  a  cloud  that's  set; 
The  dead  past  has  been  buried;  let  it  rest; 

Retain  its  lessons,  but  all  else  forget. 

The  battlefield  of  now  is  facing  you, 

And  you  should  falter  not,  but  bravely  fight. 

But  meet  no  tempter  with  a  tearful  eye; 

Just  forward  march  for  conscience  and  the  right. 


101 


AT  NIGHT 

I  never  really  care  to  pray 

Like  you — unto  a  power  on  high, 

Save,  as  each  night,  my  baby  lays 
Asleep  in  bed,  and  I  sit  nigh. 

And  then  I  think  of  all  the  things 

That  through  the  day  she's  said  and  done ; 

Of  little  griefs,  so  very  few, 

And  all  her  merry  tricks  for  fun; 

Of  kisses  given  on  my  neck 

And  on  my  lips  and  cheeks  and  brow, 
Or,   if  I'm  busy,   kisses  blown 

To  me,  by  lips  so  silent  now. 

And  then  I  wonder  if  the  years 

Will  dim  that  sweet  impulsive  glee, 

Or  give  to  me  one  kiss  the  less, — 
Those  kisses  all  so  dear  to  me. 

I  wonder  if  those  gray-blue  eyes, 

Like  me  will  weep  such  bitter  tears; 

Or  will  life's  sorrow  crush  her  soul, 

Or  fill   her  heart  with  darkened  fears. 
102 


I  would  not  ask  no  grief  be  hers ; 

Too  well  I  know  each  heart  is  tried 
By  sorrows'  tears  to  bring  the  best; 

By  grief  I'd  have  her  not  denied, 

Tho  gladly  I  would  suffer  all 

Could  that  make  her  both  brave  and  true. 
But  this  is  not  the  law  of  life; 

Each  heroine  has  work  to  do. 

But  Oh,  I  pray  that  Power  divine 

To  make  her  strong  when  comes  the  test; 

And  may  she  never  once  become 
A  narrow,  bitter  pessimist. 

Oh,  may  those  slumbering  eyes  ne'er  see 
(No  matter  how  much  they  must  weep) 

Aught  else  than  good  in  all  that  is ; 

Her  faith  in  good  I  pray  she'd  keep. 

Oh,  Power  Divine,  help  me  to  teach 
Her  what  is  truth,  and  what  is  right; 

And  may  a  mother's  effort  thus 
E'er  be  to  her  a  guiding  light. 


103 


THE  NEED  OF  THE  WORLD 

Oh  give  us  men, — not  sluggish  men 

Who  breathe   and  move  each  day, 
And  tread  the  path  their  fathers  trod, 

Nor  seek  a  better  way, 
Who  never  sin,  as  we  call  "sin," 

Yet  never  upward  soar, 
But  tread  with  aimless,  listless  feet 

The  same  path  o'er  and  o'er. 

The  world  needs  men  of  brain  and  brawn, 

Who,   aiming   high,   may   sink, 
Yet  dauntless,  daring,  rise  again; 

Who  have  great  minds  to  think, 
And  thinking,  lead  the  world  above 

To  heights  unseen,  unknown, 
And  undiscovered,  save  for  these 

Great  hearts  thus  proved  and  shown. 

Oh  give  us  men  who  know  the  needs 

Of  hearts  crushed  with  despair 
And  cannot  go,  but  sink  beneath 

The  burdens  they  must  bear. 
Aye,  give  us  men,  the  manly  men. 

The  world   needs   leaders  strong 
To   guide,    uplift,    encourage, 

And  help  the  truth  along. 


104 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  H. 

Oct.  1. 

Fifty  years  of  life  together, 

Years  of  bright  and  stormy  weather; 

Yet  today  you  gladly  stand 

Side  by  side  and  hand  in  hand. 

Both  together  bore  your  crosses, 
Grieved  together  o'er  your  losses, 
Shared  the  joys  that  came  your  way, 
Hand  in  hand  through  life  to  stay. 

Tho  you  passed  through  stormy  weather 
Yet  'twas  brief;  for  both  together 
Faced  the  doubt,  and  grief,  and  fear; 
And  the  storms  made  each  more  dear. 

With  your  friends  you  shared  your  gladness, 
Cheered  the  sick,  relieved  their  sadness;   ' 
Thus  your  fifty  years  have  passed 
Tho  it  seems  they've  gone  so  fast. 

Aye,  perchance  your  lives  are  fading, 
Yet  the  future  has  no  shading; 
In  your  hearts  hold  not  a  fear 
For  love  binds  you  ever  near. 

105 


Even  tho'  the  years  are  flitting, 
Closer  still  your  hearts  are  knitting, 
And  the  web  of  life  you've  spun 
Will  be  worthy  when  'tis  done. 

And  your  love  makes  our  hearts  lighter, 
And  your  lives  this  old  world  brighter. 
Fifty  cheers  we  give  for  you, — 
Friends  so  noble,  brave  and  true. 


106 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  FUTURE 

We  talk  of  saints  and  sinners  vile, 
And  say  "'tis  just  their  way;" 

But  what  the  woman  of  tomorrow  is 
Depends  on  us  today. 

If  we  are  false  and  fickle  both, 
Made  up  of  shams  and  paint, 

I'm  sure  the  woman  of  tomorrow  will 
Not  be  a  perfect  saint. 

Deceit  ne'er  made  one  beautiful, 

Nor    falsehood   made    one   pure ; 

And  if  the  women  of  today  are  false 
Our  girls  will  be,  I'm  sure. 

If  we  are  thoughtful,  tender,  wise, 

Sincere  in  all  we  do, 
I'm  sure  our  daughters  of  the  future  years 

Will  earnest  be  and  true. 

If  we  live  lives  of  virtue,   friends, 
And  search   for  knowledge  true, 

The  things  we  seek,  and  love  to  study  most 
Our  girls  will  study,  too. 
107 


And  they,  our  growing  daughters  dear, 

Must  build  the  future  race; 
And  if  it  totters  on  a  throne  that's  weak, 

Back  to  our  door  they'll  trace 

And  find  foundations  false,  that  we 

So   thoughtlessly  had   laid. 
Then  let  us  rouse  our  listless  selves  to  work, 

Lest  failure  we  have  made, 

And   they,  our  darlings,  suffer  much 

For  this — our  careless  sin. 
Let  us  be  thoughtful,  earnest,  ever  true. 

Today   let  us   begin. 

The  women  of  the  future  years 
Will  be  what  we  have  made. 

God  grant  that  all  our  lessons  may  be  wise, 
And  strongly,  truly  laid. 


108 


ALL  ONE 

There  is  no  this  life  and  another 
For  all  is  one — one  up  and  on. 

Yes,  onward  to  the  great  perfection 

Whene'er  our  fleeting  breath  is  gone. 

There   is  no  death,  'tis  but  transition. 

The  plant  is  but  developed  seed. 
There   is   no    line   of  demarcation, — 

The  seed  is  germ,  the  fruit  is  feed. 

The  snowflake  falls  on  earth's  warm  bosom 
And  on  its  warm  heart  melts  away, 

Or  rather  changes  in  appearance, — 
In  substance  just  the  same  alway. 

The  oak  is  but  a  tiny  acorn 

Developed  by  the  rain  and  sun, 

Through  days  and  weeks  and  many  seasons, — 
Just  larger  grown,  and  yet  all  one. 

The    spirit    is    the   same    forever, 
Altho  it  from  the  mortal  strays. 

The  flesh  and  blood  belong  to  earth  life 
But  not  to  other  mystic  ways. 
109 


And  so  like  acorn,  seed,  and  snowflake, 
It  casts  aside  its  outward  cloak, 

And  just  goes  on  its  way  rejoicing, 
As  from  the  acorn  goes  the  oak. 

There  is  no  this  life  and  another, 

For  'tis  all  one — all  one — the  same; 

And  what  to  you  makes  it  seem  dual 
Is  just  the  changing  of  its  name. 


110 


BOTH  BEST 

I  would  not  wish  the  shadows  gone, 

Altho  I  grope  in  dark; 
For  I  have  learned,  through  bitter  tears 
And  long  and  dark  foreboding  fears 

That  they  are  best. 

I  would  not  wish  my   sorrows  gone 

From  out  my  saddened  past, 
For  through  that  grief  I've  found  my  strength, 
And  tho  I  fought  it  long,  at  length 

I   learned  'twas  best. 

I  would  not  wish  my  life  all  joy, 

All  sunshine,   and  all  peace; 
For  it  would  clog  and  tire  the  brain, 
And  then,  methinks,  I'd  wish  for  rain; 

For  both  are  best. 

We  have  not  learned  the  test  of  life 

Until  we  learn  all's  good ; 
Until  we  know  that  joy  is  sweet, 
But  without  tears  is  not  complete ; 

For  both  are  best. 


in 


COULD  I  GO  BACK 

Could  I  go  back  again,  sweetheart, 

And  live  the  long  ago 
When  we  both  promised  to  be  true, 

(For  then  I  loved  you  so,) 

Back  to  the  day  you  kissed  my  brow 

In  love's  sweet  yesterday, 
I  wonder  if  your  touch  would  thrill 

Me  in  the  same  old  way. 

Could  we  go  back  again,  sweetheart, 
And  think  the  same  old  thought, 

Without  one  fear  of  all  the  grief 
That  time  to  both  has  brought, 

Would  going  back  thus  bring  us  joy? 

Sometimes  I   think  it  might. 
And  someway,  thoughts  of  those  dead  days 

Bring   teardrops    as    I    write. 

Not   that   I    grieve   our   broken  tryst, 
For,  dear,   it  could  not  be; 

My  life  is  best  away  from  you 
And  yours  apart  from  me. 


112 


But  mem'ry  of  the  childhood  love 
And  hope,  can  never  die. 

I  would  not  blot  it  from  my  heart; 
You  could  not,  tho  you  try. 

I  mourn  not  for  the  love  once  ours ; 

But   for  each  hope  that's  slain 
I  shed  a  tear;  for  this  I  know, 

It   cannot    come  again. 


LIFE 

Life  is  not  a  dreary  desert, 

Not  a  bleak  and  barren  waste, 
But  a  forest  green  and  growing 
To  the  one  who  goes  through  knowing, 
Seeking,  what  it  is  we  taste. 

If  we  keep  our  eyes  cast  downward 

We  can  see  the  thorns  and  weeds; 
We  can  feel  each  briar  and  bramble, 
At  each  scratch  can  moan  and  tremble 
Like  a  thief  caught  at  his  deeds. 

But  if  we'll  seek  a  pathway 

That  leads  out  through  verdant  bowers, 
Where  the  lofty  trees  are  swaying, 
And  the  winds  'midst  branches  playing 

We  can  find  a  path  of  flowers. 

Turn  thee  henceward ;  see  hope  gleaming. 

Pause  not  once  to  grieve  or  wait. 
Let  ambition   guide   thee   onward, 
Not   temptation  drag  thee  downward, 

Though  sin  shows  a  gilded  gate. 
114 


Life  has  pathways  that  are  pleasant; 

Look  beyond  thee   and  around. 
Let  no  secret  sin  nor  sorrow 
Find  thee  on  its  track  tomorrow. 

Seek  the  paths  where  joys  abound, 

Yet  where  virtue  holds  its  kingdom, 

(The  path  that  leads  to  heaven  above). 
Come  not  weeping;  best  come  singing 
And  but  hope  and  good  thoughts  bringing; 
Then  thou'lt  find  the  path  of  love. 


OUR  BOYS  OF  '61 

No  camp  fire  dots  the  valley, 

The  Shenandoah  valley  wide; 

No  sentries  guard  the  sleeping  camps 
Or  list  to  soldiers'  stride. 

The  war  fields  now  are  vacant; 

The  fire  and  drum  are  still 
That  led  our  marching  heroes  on 

To  fight  with  right  good  will. 

The  battle   guns   are   silent; 

Our  heroes  stood  their  test. 
The  men  who  answered  Lincoln's  call 

Are  marching  now  to  rest. 

Yes,  some  are  silent  sleeping; 

For   in  the  ranks   are  gaps 
That  time  has  made,  as  our  brave  men 

Respond  to  sound  of  taps. 

And  o'er  their  beds  are  flowers, — 
The  choicest  blooms  we  give 

To  them — our  men  who  bravely  died 
That  we  as  one  might  live. 
116 


Aye,  let  the  world  sing  proudly 

Its  paean  for  our  brave 
Who  fought  for  freedom's  cause  and  won,- 

E'en  tho  their  lives  they  gave. 

Aye,  let  us  swell  the  chorus 
Of  praise,  and  loud  hurrahs 

For  our  brave  men  who  suffered  much 
And  fought  for  such  a  cause. 


117 


MY  CREED 

Where  worship  I?     What  cult  believe? 

My  creed,  dear  brother,  do  you  ask? 
To  answer  this  needs  but  a  line 

And  'tis,  I'm  sure,  an  easy  task. 

No  man-named  church  or  creed  have   I ; 

I  only  worship  love  divine, 
And  love  all  men  as  I'd  be  loved. 

This  all  the  creed  that  I  call  mine. 

What  need  I,  friend,  for  more  than  this? 

Thus  living,  I  could  wrong  no  single  life 
While  knowing  we  are  brothers  all, — 

One  God,  one  aim,  one  hope,  one  life. 

So  no  four  walls   alone   can  claim 
This  creed  I  try  to  live  as  mine. 

No  single  book  alone  can  prove 

Its  right  to  claim  this  law  divine. 

Our  Christ  Himself  said  what  was  old, 

And  Buddha  spoke  the  same  old  thought 

"Do  not  to  men  thou  wouldst  not  have — " 
Its  origin — I  care  it  not. 
118 


But  this  I  know :  when  rightly  lived, 
The  golden  rule  is  all  we  need; 

And  tho  no  church  do  I  condemn, 
I  seek  no  saner,  better  creed. 


HOW  DOES  LOVE  SPEAK? 

How  does   love   speak? 

Perchance  you'd  say  by  blushing  cheeks, 

And  manner   coy,   averted   eye, 

And  bounding  pulse  that  throbs  and  beats 

With  ardor  strange  when  "he"  comes  nigh  ? 

In  tender  pressure  of  the  lips, 

In  new-born  gentleness  of  voice, 

And  ling'ring  touches  hand  in  hand, — 

A  love  that  makes  the  heart  rejoice. 

How  does  love  speak? 
It  speaks  most  loud  in  kindly  acts 
To  all  mankind,  and  loving  deeds ; 
Because  of  this  great  love  new  born 
All  cries  for  help  it  gladly  heeds, 
And  shares  with  all  its  bounteous  store 
Of  love  and  thoughtful  tenderness. 
Aye,  blushes  tell  that  love  is  born, 
But  love  speaks  best  in  acts  that  bless. 


119 


TO  PAULINE 

Little  dimpled,  brown-eyed  Pauline, 
Summers  two  sit  on  thy  brow ; 

Mirth  unmingled  with  a  sorrow 
Is  allotted  to  thee  now. 

Not  one  shadow  in  thy  sunshine, 
Save,  perhaps,  a  tear  or  two 

Just  to  make  thy  smiles  the  sweeter, 
Just  a  drop  of  childhood  dew. 

Darling  little  happy  Pauline, 

Life  and  love  hath  made  thee  blest 

In  thy  gladsome  days  of  childhood. 
May  the  years  bring  what  is  best. 

Not  all  joy  would  we  wish  for  thee, 
For  each  hero  must  endure, 

And  a  heroine  we'd  have  thee, — 
Noble,   sweet,  and  ever  pure. 

Little  brown-eyed  baby  Pauline, 

Two  years  crown  thy  life  today. 

May  love  guide  and  guard  and  bless  thee 
All  the  years  of  life's  long  way. 

120 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MANSION 

If  the  man  of  great  poverty  hath  naught  to  share, 
If  with  cold  he  is  shaking,  his  hands  numb  and  bare, 
If  he  thinks  of  life's  pleasures  for  him  there  are  none 
From  the  dawn  of  the  day  to  the  setting  of  sun, 
When  he  thinks  of  these  things,   (he  will  grieve  as  he 

thinks), 
Then  his  courage  oft  fails  him,  his  spirit  oft  sinks. 

But  remember, 

If  the  man  in  the  hovel  hath  trials  to  bear, 
So  hath  the  man  in  the  mansion. 

If  the  hut  of  the  poor  man  is  dingy  and  dim, 

Yet  hath  love  that  will  lighten  life's  pathway  for  him, 

No  need  he  to  care  for  the  palaces  great, 

Where    fountains   are   sparkling   and   carriages   wait, 

Where  breezes  are  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  blooms, 

Yet  love  lingers  not  in  those  richly  decked  rooms. 

For  remember, 

If  the  man  in  the  hovel  hath  love  in  his  home 
Perchance  there  is  none  in  the  mansion. 

After  all  what  is  wealth?    If  the  heart  hath  its  grief 
And  is  sordid  and  narrow,  can  the  wealth  give  relief? 
When  the  sunshine  falls  only  on  carpets  so  rare, 
When  the  life  is  all  darkened  by  sorrow  and  care, 

121 


The  rich  man  may  live  in  a  great  splendid  hell, 
And  bear  all  its  tortures;  he,  only,  could  tell. 

But  remember, 

That  if  true  love  will  lighten  the  load  for  the  poor, 
'Twill  also  for  him  in  the  mansion. 

Envy  not.    Though  in  hovel  or  in  hut  thou  art  placed, 
Let  the  sweat  of  toil  honest  stand  out  on  thy  brow; 
Let  thy  heart  beat  with  willingness.    Grasp  every  chance. 
When  thou  seest  without  envy  the  rich  in  thy  glance 
Thou  wilt  know  that  their  cup  holds  its  bitterness,  too, 
And  that  fate  hath  not  dealt  so  unjustly  with  you. 

And  remember, 

That  the  man  in  the  hovel  hath  trials  to  bear, 
And  so  hath  the  man  in  the  mansion. 


122 


SACRIFICE 

Is  that  a  sacrifice 

By  which  we  yield  some  cherished  joy  today 
And  gain  some  greater  power  by  which  we  live 

And  living  right,  cast  all  that's  false  away? 

Today   we   say    "a  sacrifice," 

But  as  tomorrow  brings  us  wisdom,  strength, 
We  know  it  as  it  is,  a  stepping  stone 

To  lead  us  up  and  on  to  peace  at  length. 

There  is  no  sacrifice. 

When  we  do  aught  and  name  it  such 
'Tis  sordid  selfishness,  unmixed  with  love ; 

'Tis  crowding  Christ  out  from  our  deed  too  much. 

There   is   no   sacrifice. 

When  love  prompts  deeds  both  kind  and  true 
The  heart  is  filled  with  joy  that  we  can  do 

This  thing  as  Jesus  did  with  love  that's  true. 

Love  knows  no  sacrifice. 

Hence  there  is  none.     For  God  is  love  and  we, 
A  part  of  Him  and  He  of  us,  do  naught 

Save  as  His  spirit  prompts  to  do  and  be. 


123 


AN  ANSWER 

I  live  my  life  as  fate  elects; 
My  conscience  bound;  my  heart  rejects 
Some  laws  (by  church  and  custom  made) 
And  some   environment   that's   laid 

So  near  my  narrow,  briar-decked  path. 
Perchance  when  comes  the  aftermath 
I,  wiser  grown,  will  say  'twas  good, 
And  would  not  change  it  if  I  could. 

Tho  even  now  I  might  be  "free," 
Yet  it  would  grieve  those  dear  to  me. 
Yes,  no  atonement  in  my  creed. 
From  my  own  sins  I  will  be  freed 

When  conscience  says  no  more  I  sin. 
This  victory  I  alone  must  win. 
No  Christ  was  Jesus  more  than  I, 
A  good  wise  man  I'll  not  deny. 

He  came  in  that  old-fashioned  way 
And  "died"  as  we  all  must  some  day. 
'Twas  His,  'tis  mine,  the  right  to  do 
The  best  we  can  life's  journey  through. 
124 


He  stronger,  wiser  far  than  I. 

Is  my  example,  and  I  try 

To  live  the  Golden  Rule  He  taught; 

For  better  creed,  I  seek  it  not. 


LIFE'S  MIRACLE 

The  making  of  the  mountains, 

A  view  for  artist's  hand, 
Niagara's   rushing  waters, 

A  scene  both  weird  and  grand, 
The  rushing  trains  o'er  prairies, 

Boats  floating  on  the  sea, 
The  airships  in  the  heavens, 

All  miracles  may  be. 
But  parenthood's  the  greatest 

Of  miracles  to  me. 


125 


A  STORY  IN  RHYME— THE  PIOLIN 

At  last  it  has  come,  it  has  come,  aye,  to  this, 

That  you,  the  companion  of  my  youth,  must  be  sold, 

For  even  a  woman  dreads  death  by  starvation, 
And  I  am  a  woman,  and  hungry,  and  cold, 

Oh  long  have  I  lain  in  this  cold,  chilly  hut, 

The  world  caring  little  that  I  starved  or  I  died; 

Yet  I  left  the  world  when  I  sank  as  a  drunkard, 
When  all  of  God's  laws  I  disdained  and  defied. 

And  yet  it  was  love  that  first  dragged  my  soul  down ; 

And  wine  cheered  my  heart  in  the  depths  of  despair. 
It  made  me  forgetful  that  he  was  still  living, 

Aye,  made  me  forget  life  had  been  aught  save  fair. 

And  so  I  would  drink  till  my  mem'ry  grew  dull, 
Forgetful  of  all  that  I  had  loved,  save  you ; 

No  sorrow  has  severed  us,  naught  came  between  us, 

Oh  friend  of  my  childhood,  whose  heart  sings  so  true. 

When  he,  my  false  lover  came  back  to  my  room 

Once  more,  just  to  look  on  the  thing  he  had  made, 

My  heart  boiled  within  me ;  I  knew  he  was  married. 
I  took  my  one  weapon  from  the  stand  where  it  laid 
126 


And  shot  him  ere  conscience  could  stop  me,  or  stay; 

He  fell  at  my  feet,  a  poor,  warm  breathless  heap, 
I  paused  to  get  you,  then  I  fled  to  this  city, 

And  here  in  this  rat-ridden  hole  I  must  keep, 

Lest  officers  finding  the  carcass  I  left 

Might  seek  me  and  drag  me  away  to  their  pen; 

For  that  I  would  not  care  if  they  still  left  you  with  me, 
In  jail  I'd  not  freeze,  nor  would  hungry  be  then. 

The  man  who  has  given  me  the  last  food  I  had 

Has  offered  to  buy  you  for  one  hundred  straight; 

And  I  ?  Dare  I  sell  you  ?  Oh  God,  I  am  hungry ! 

Why  waste  all  these  words  ?  I  will  go,  tho  'tis  late. 

My  hands  are  so  cold  I  can  scarce  shut  the  lid; 

My  old  faded  shawl  will  conceal  me  from  view; 
The  night  is  so  dark;  it  is  raining  and  stormy; 

Wait !     Sing  one  farewell  ere  I  part  now  from  you. 

Yes,  sing  the  old  song  that  my  mother  once  loved. 

Your  tones  are  as  faultless  and  as  true  as  of  old. 
'Tis  I  that  am  faulty  and  weakened  by  hunger; 

I  shiver.     My  hands  are  both  shaking  with  cold. 

Why  linger?    I'll  go.     I  will  get  gold  to  buy  food; 

I  act  like  a  child  o'er  this  small  piece  of  wood ; 
I'll  open  the  door  and  go  forth — what  is  this  ? 

A  paper  blown  in  by  the  storm ;  'tis  no  good — 

But  see !   There's  his  name,  and  perchance  tells  his  death 
"John  Simmons'  recovery  assured" — "no  clue  to  the 

foe." 

"The  invalid  says  that  he  knew  not  the  stranger" — 
Thank  God  I've  not  killed  him.    And  now  I  can  go, 
127 


Go  back  to  the  home  of  my  childhood  once  more; 

Will  start  once  again  in  the  battle  of  life. 
No  murderer  I.    I  can  seek  work  that's  honest. 

With  you  to  go  with  me,  I'll  enter  the  strife. 


BE  A  LEADER 

Make  your  own  destiny.     Choose  your  own  road. 
Though  it  be  great,  ever  bear  your  own  load. 
Follow  the  multitude  not  like  a  sheep. 
Be  your  own  master;  your  own  conscience  keep. 

Doubt  not  your  power  to  march  forth  alone 
When  others  falter ;  the  strength  is  your  own. 
All  he  world's  heroes  have  pushed  on  ahead. 
Be  your  own  leader.     Don't  be  the  led. 

Force  not  the  world  to  march  onward  with  you; 
Maybe  your  pathway  for  them  is  not  true. 
Let  your  light  shine.     Make  your  pathway  so  bright 
The  world  will  all  follow  when  it  sees  you  are  right. 


128 


TO  MRS.  E.  H.  G. 

This  brings  a  morning  greeting — 
A  thought :    I  love  you,  dear. 

And  may  it  make  your  morn  more  bright 
And  to  each  day  bring  cheer. 

From  out  the  vast  assemblies 

That  listen  to  your  voice 
And  praise  your  words  so  full  of  truth, 

I'm  one  to  hear,  rejoice. 

And  though  I'm  only  one,  dear, 
That  worships  at  your  shrine, 

To  know  you  think  of  me  as  friend 
Brings  joy  to  heart  of  mine. 

And  so  I  send  this  greeting, 

Although  I  feel  you  knew, 
Yet  some  way  I  would  word  it  now, 

'Tis  this:    dear,  I  love  you. 

And  as  the  hours  go  by,  dear, 

I  know  I'll  be  more  true, 
More  tender,  thoughtful,  loving,  kind, 

Because  of  meeting  you. 
129 


My  hours  shall  be  more  gladsome; 

Life's  skies  will  be  more  blue; 
The  goal  of  truth  shall  seem  more  near 

Because — because  of  you. 


MY  WORK 

Let  me  have  conscience  and  courage  to  think 

Thoughts  that  can  help  and  not  hinder  the  race. 

I  am  but  one  in  this  world's  mighty  throng, 
Yet  in  the  midst  of  it  all  I've  a  place. 

This  is  my  work:    just  to  fill  my  niche  well. 

Is  my  brain   useless  or  have  I  well  thought? 
Are  may  hands  still  when  there's  much  to  be  done? 

In  these  few  fleeting  years,  what  have  I  wrought? 


130 


JAMIE 

Jamie,  darling,  them  hast  left  me, 
For  no  more  I  see  thy  face, 

And  at  times  my  heart  is  bitter; 

Teardrops  leave  their  briny  trace. 

And  yet,  darling,  thou  art  with  me 
Every  day  and  every  hour, 

Though  my  eyes  cannot  detect  thee, 
Having  not  this  greater  power. 

But  I  know  the  tie  that  bound  us 

Would  not  break  and  let  thee  go, 

For  I  loved  thee,  Jamie,  darling, 
Oh  I  loved  thee,  loved  thee  so. 

And  because  I  loved  thee  truly 
I  will  put  all  grief  away; 

In  my  heart  and  home,  my  darling, 
Shall  no  sorrow  longer  stay. 

I'll  not  dim  thy  spirit  presence 
By  my  useless,  vain  regret; 

I'll  not  bind  thee  with  my  grieving, 
And  no  longer  will  I  fret. 
131 


Just  because  I  loved  thee,  Jamie, 
And  because  I  know  thou'lt  know, 

I  will  shut  my  heart  to  sorrow. 
I  am  sure  you'd  have  it  so. 

Jamie,  darling,  see — I'm  smiling. 

Lay  thy   spirit  face   near  mine. 
For  no  more  by  silent  sorrow 

Will  I  grieve  that  soul  of  thine. 


132 


VISION  PROPHETIC 

In  the  evening  of  the  present 

I  see  a  dawn  ahead ; 
No  weak  and  starving  workmen 

By  monied  classes  led. 

I  see  no  toiling  slavery, 

For  men  at  last  are  free; 

No  more  are  they  mere  chattels 
As  once  they  used  to  be. 

The  thrones  of  kings  have  fallen, 
And  honest  people  reign; 

And  past  "kings"  are  the  brothers 
Who  toil  for  men — not  gain. 

I  see  a  world  where  labor 
Can  win  its  just  reward; 

And  since  all  men  are  brothers 
No  men  need  work  too  hard. 

There  is  no  hungry  beggar 

With  empty,  outstretched  hand; 
I  see  not  e'en  one  miser 

With  jewels,  gold  and  land. 

133 


The   wailing   cry  of  childhood 

No  longer  do  I   hear, 
For  human  love  has  conquered 

And  wiped  away  the  tear. 

No  more  I  hear  the  war  drums; 

I  see  a  world  at  peace; 
And  soldiers  from  their  fetters 

Have  gladly  found  release. 

No  sweatshops  for  the  women, 

Or  factory  hours  long; 
They're  at  their  rightful   mission, 

With  love  and  home  their  song. 

Their  homes  are  all  so  happy; 

Our  women  all  are  there 
At  work  as  wives  and  mothers, 

All  healthy,  happy,  fair. 

Perchance,  this  view  prophetic 
Seems  foolish  unto  you; 

But  wait  and  watch,  my  brothers, 
Some  day  it  may  come  true. 


134 


TO ,  OF  ST.  LOUIS 

Thy  path  and  mine  lies  far  apart, 
Though  words  of  mine  may  cheer  thy  heart 
And  bring  one  bright  and  fitting  ray 
To  brighten  life's  long  weary  way. 

And  yet  the  path  need  not  seem  long 
If  to  the  world  thou'lt  sing  love's  song. 
Thy  sorrows  others,  too,  have  borne. 
The  crown  of  thorns  by  Christ  was  worn. 

He  lives  again  in  you  and  me 

If  that  divine  we  search  to  see. 

Then  go  thy  way.     Just  work  and  smile. 

God's   blessing  guard  thee  all  the  while. 

A  life  is  made  of  joys  and  tears, 
Of  griefs,  and  hopes,  and  pain,  and  fears. 
May  what  is  best  for  thee  be  thine. 
But  this  I  hope,  Oh  friend  of  mine, 

That  thou  hast  quaffed  from  our  grief's  cup 
Thy  share,  and  need  not  longer  sup, 
But  drink  love's  nectar,  rich  and  rare; 
God  keep  thee  worthy,  is  my  prayer. 


135 


THE  DAISY 

I  passed  along  a  roadside, 
All  dusty  brown  and  bare ; 

My  heart  was  tired  and  heavy 
With  many  trials  and  care. 

At  last  I  found  a  daisy, 

Its  snow-white  round  the  gold;— 
The  bloom   whose   lasting  beauty 

By  poets  has  been  told. 

And  as  I  watched  it  waving 
In  summer  breezes  hot, 

To  me  it  taught  a  lesson 

As   I    stood   there   in   thought. 

The  soil  around  was  barren — 

The  grass  seemed  dead  and  dry: 

And  save  that  lonely  daisy 

No  sight  of  bloom  was  nigh. 

And  yet  that  sun-kissed  blossom 
Still  waved  its  gleam  of  white 

And  sent  from  heart  so  golden 
Its  share  of  beauty  bright. 

136 


Oh  that  we  might  do  likewise 

And  grow  where'er  we're  placed, 

And  shed  a  light  around  us 
E'en  though  by  trials  faced. 


137 


THE  MAN  WHO  SHIRKS 

I've  met  with  many  kinds  of  folks 
Along  life's  journey  here; 

The  one  who  growls;  the  one  who  smiles 
And  gives  a  word  of  cheer; 

The  one  who  never  has  had   luck 

In  anything  he  works. 
But  of  them  all  I  like  the  least 

The  careless  man  who  shirks. 

At  home  he's  late  in  getting  up; 

His  wife  must  build  the  fires, 
Must  carry  water,  split  the  wood, 

And  have  what  he  desires. 

In  church  he  likes  the  sermons  fine; 

He's  always   in  his  seat; 
As  to  the  music  that  is  sung, 

He  says  'tis  hard  to  beat. 

But  when  the  plate  is  passed  around 

By  deacons  or  by  clerks, 
He's  praying  hard,  with  eyes  tight  shut; 

The  dues  he  always  shirks. 
138 


And  at  the  lodge,  when  lunch  is  served 
He  always  wants  his  share; 

But  when  the  lodge  has  work  to  do 
He's — well — he's  never  there. 

I  wonder  when  comes  judgment  day 

And  he  ascends  on  high 
And  old  St.  Peter  calls  the  roll 

Will  he  be   standing  nigh? 

I'd  say,  if  I  were  Peter  then, 

"You're  known  by  your  past  works, 

And  there  is  no  admission  here, 

For  you — the  man  who  shirks." 


139 


LOVE 

In  the  dawning  of  love's  morning 

When  life's  loneliness  has  fled, 
And  all  grief  has  gone  a  gloaming 

To  its  grave  by  death  is  led, 
Then  the  heart  with  joy  is  beating, 

And  life  seems  one  gladsome  day, 
In  the  dawning  of  love's  morning. 

Oh,  that  love  would  come  and  stay ! 

In  the  nooning  of  love's  living 

When  all  hopes  have  blossomed  bright, 
And  the  clouds  have  turned  their  linings 

And  all  life  seems  glad  and  bright, 
Then  the  hand  forgets  its  cunning, 

Thinking  love  has  come  to  stay. 
Oh,  that  it  could  come  and  tarry 

And  would  live  and  love  for  aye. 

In  the  evening  of  love's  dying, 

When  its    steps   have   fainter  grown, 
As  it  tarries   in  its  going 

Ere  it  leaves  the  heart  so  lone, 
Then  all  life  seems  cheerless,  hopeless; 

Then  the  heart  moans  out  its  cry ; 
For   love's  eventide  is  passing. 

Cherish  it  or  it  will  die. 
140 


In  the  midnight  of  love's  slumber 

It  seems  buried  dark  and  deep; 
And  the   hearts,   so  faint  and  weary 

O'er  its  grave  a  vigil  keep. 
But  when  they  can  still  their  grieving 

And  look  up  and  on  afar, 
They  will  see  in  yonder  portals 

Of  the   future  love's   sweet  star 

For  the  rainbow  of  its  promise 

Ever  sits  behind  the  fears, 
Though  they  let  sweet  hope  be  hidden 

By  the  flowing  of  their  tears. 
Every  night  must  have  a  morning, 

And  love's  death  is  not  for  aye. 
Sorrow  comes.     Joy  must  follow. 

All  the  night  just  watch  for  day 


141 


WHEN  WAR  CALLS  MEN  TO  ARMS 

When  war  calls  men  to  arms  to  fight, 

Tis  bloody  war  for  sinful  greed 
To  test  the  fighting  strength  of  men, 

And  their  blood-seeking  natures  feed. 

And  in  its  wake  of  wrong  and  death 

Comes  famine  for  the  poor  and  weak: 

And  for  the  rich,  who  dared  not  fight, 

Comes  wealth  that  they  so  gladly  seek. 

They  own  the  food  the  widows  eat ; 

They  have  the  gold  the  nation  needs, 
And   at   a  price  they  set  themselves, 

They  loan  and  call  it  generous  deeds. 

When  love  calls  men  to  arms  to  fight, 

True  hearts  respond,  not  one  draws  back ; 

The  motive   pure  appeals  to  all; 

Love  says  "brave  men  no  courage  lack 

When  force  alone  MUST  rule  to  win." 
But  when  'tis  nations  fighting  each 

And  caring  not  the  men  they  kill, 

And  when  'tis  gold  or  gain  they  reach 
142 


To  grasp  within  their  bloody  hands, 
'Tis  time,  methinks,  for  heroes  brave 

(Who  love  the  right  and  truth  and  peace) 
To  say:     "I  will  not  fill  one  grave. 

No  wife  shall  wear  a  widow's  weeds 
By  act  of  mine.     No  little  child 

Shall  through  my  rush  to  country's  call 
Shed  e'en  one  tear,  or  cry  out  wild 

With  grief."     Oh  let  us  pause  to  think: 
If  I  and  all  my  brother  men 

Heed  not  the  nation's  call  to  arms, 
Refuse  to  fight  its  wars,  'tis  then 

Some  other  plan  will  be  devised; 

Our  nation  great  will  quickly  find 
No  need  for  war,  or  else  'twill  seek 

Some  other  method  far  more  kind 

Than  calling  forth  at  its  sweet  will 

Our  men  to  test  our  fighting  strength, 

And  causing  desolation  great, 

And  bringing  grief  and  death  at  length. 

And  though  you  call  me  rash  and  wrong, 
I  boldly,  firmly  take  my  stand: 

When  wicked  wars  call  men  to  arms 
I  will  not  fight  for  any  land; 

But  when  love  calls,  as  Jesus  taught, 
And  only  when  true  love  has  need, 

Will  I  march  forth  for  God  and  right, 
Will  I  bear  arms  and  war's  call  heed. 

143 


And  though  you  say  all  wars  are  right, 
I  answer  not.  But  this  I  know : 

When  honor  needs,  I'll  heed  the  cry; 
When  love  calls  men  to  arms  I'll  go. 


144 


ALL  WE  NEED 

Love,  my  friend,  is  all  we  need, 
Love,  Christ-love,  is  all  to  heed. 
It  will  brighten  all  the  day 
And  make  short  the  world's  long  way. 
What  thou  art  will  rest  with  thee, 
When  this  truth  thy  heart  can  see, 
God's  sweet  love  will  guide  thy  life, 
And   make    thee    strong    for   any    strife. 
Love  of  self  makes  narrow  hearts, 
Self  from  self  Christ-love  e'er  parts. 
Each  for  all  the  creed  He  taught, 
Human  brotherhood  he  sought — 
Love  thy  brother   as   thy   self. 
Do  no  deed  for  praise  or  pelf. 
Lift  thy  brother's  load  of  grief; 
Soon  thy   heart   will   find  relief. 
Bravely  share  thy  brother's  load ; 
Brighter  thou  wilt  find  thy  road. 
Love,  my  friend,  is  all  we  need ; 
Love,  Christ-love,  is  all  to  heed. 


145 


ITS  NOBODY'S  BUSINESS 

"It's  nobody's  business,"  you  say,  "but  theirs 
How  wealth  is  made  by  millionaires; 
We  have  no  right  to  view  the  scene, 
Or  ask  the  law  to  draw  the  screen 
Between  the  men  who  make  the  gold 
And  those  who  all  the  riches  hold." 
Ah!  though  the  step  between  the  two 
Is  short  and  seldom  held  to  view, 
Yet  crime,  and  death,  and  hell  are  there. 
It  is  our  business  and  we  should  care. 

It  is  our  business  if  men  must  toil 
From  dawn  to  dark,  till  hearts  recoil 
With  hate  of  these — our  country's  laws 
So  hard,  so  stern,  so  full  of  flaws 
To  crush  the  men  who  toil  each  day 
And   give   the  monied  man  his  way. 
It  IS  our  business  that  greed  does  hold 
Our  men  in  bondage  just  for  gold. 
And  though  our  husband,  our  son  is  free, 
Still  'tis  our  business.    Oh  can't  you  see? 

"It's  nobody's  business,"  I  hear    you  say, 
"If  helpless  babes  are  born  each  day 
That,  ere  a  year  has  slow  passed  by, 
Must  suffer,  starve  for  food,  and  die. 
146 


It's  no  one's  business  save  their  own 
If  those  poor  mothers  weep  and  moan, 
And  then  at  death's  grim  call  they  yield 
Those  babes  to  lie  in  Potter's  field." 
It's  not  your  business,  do  you  say? 
May  God  help  you  on  judgment  day. 

The   Christ   should   reign   within  your   heart 

And  bid  such  selfish  love  depart; 

Then  you  would  see  the  sorrow,  woe, 

That    brothers,    sisters,    daily    know, 

And  seeing,  you  would  take  their  hand 

And  lead  them  to  a  firmer  stand 

Where  greed  could  bind  no  human  heart, — 

Where  bribes  and  tyranny  depart. 

It  IS  your  business,  day  and  night, 

To  give  relief  and  wrong  make  right. 

It  IS  YOUR  BUSINESS  how  women  slave 

From  childhood's  dawn  till  at  the  grave. 

IT  IS  YOUR  BUSINESS  when  men  need  aid. 

Ah !     From  Christ's  fold  I  fear  you've  strayed. 

It  was  His  business.     'Tis  yours  and  mine. 

Shall  we  not  heed  the  call  divine? 

"Go  feed  my  sheep"  on  highways  bare. 

Go!     "Love  thy  neighbor"  everywhere. 

It  IS  YOUR  BUSINESS,  dear  friends,  AND  MINE, 

To  do  as  did  the  Christ  divine 


147 


MAKE  YOURSELF  KNOWN 

If  people  seem  selfish 

The  trouble's  your  own; 

Demand  the  world's  notice 

And  make  yourself  known. 

In  churches  go  forward, 

Don't  take  a  back  seat 
And  wait  for  the  members 

That  you'd  like  to  meet. 

Advance  in  your  lodge  room 
To  the  front  like  a  man; 

Give  free  of  your  friendship 
And  do  what  you  can. 

Don't  wait  to  be  noticed. 

It  isn't  worth  while 
For  the  world  to  spend  hours 

In  seeking  your  smile. 

Go  give  it  your  handgrasp; 

Show  power  and  skill; 
The  world  will  soon  greet  you 

With  joy  and  good  will. 
148 


We   need   willing  workers, 
Not  statues  of  stone. 

Step  up.     Show  your  power, 
And  make  yourself  known 


149 


A  HEART  CRY 

Alone  I  sat  to  weep  and  watch 

For  what  I  know  will  never  be. 

Hope  died  since  love  has  ceased  to  live, 
And  naught  save  scorn  can  I  give  thee 

Where  once,  with  trust,  I  gave  my  heart 
In  happy  days  that  soon  meant  naught. 

Alas !     In  thee  a  comrade  kind 

And  purely  true  I  vainly  sought. 

The  shrine  on  which  I  placed  my  love 
Hath  been  too  weak;  or  could  it  be 

My  love  so  great,  or  so  ill-shown 

When  still  'twas  thine,  it  wearied  thee? 

Another  form  may  please  thee  now ; 

Another  face  may  be  more  fair 
Than  mine  did  seem  since  love  hath  died; 

Her  lips  seem  sweet  as  nectar  rare; 

Her  eyes  may  shine  as  stars  above; 

Her  tempting  ways  may  charm  thee  now; 
But  in  thy  heart  will  ever  live 

The  mem'ry  of  thy  marriage  vow. 
150 


The  sin  that  linked  her  heart  with  thine 

And  made  thee  break  thy  vow,  thine  own, 

Will  kill  thy  seeming  love  in  time; 

Then  will  she  reap  what  she  has  sown. 

Then  wilt  thou  miss  a  wife's  true  love 

That  might  have  lived  "till  death  do  part." 

The  wanton's  passion  and  embrace 

Cannot   live    long   within   thy    heart. 

Then  worldly  honor  or  renown, 

With  none  to  share,  couldst  thou  enjoy? 
Or   even  tho   she  bore  thy  name 

(Who  has  been  but  thy  wanton  toy) 

Would  not  the  mem'ry  of  a  wife 

Who  left  thee,  dim  thy  birthborn  pride, 

And  ever  stand  a  specter  grim 

Between  thee  and  a  sin-bought  bride? 

Had  honor  died  not  in  thy  breast, 

Thou  couldst  not  stand  and  sadly  say: 

"I  still  love  thee,  I  love  not  her, 

And  time  will  prove  thee  this  some  day." 

Oh,  knowest  thou  not  the  child  I  gave 
Will  ofttimes  turn  thy  thoughts  to  me, 

Although   ambition's   empty   glare 

Is  dear  and  much  desired  by  thee? 

Remember  this :  that  through  her  veins 

Doth  course  thy  blood,  and  that  her  heart 

In  future  years  will  ask  the  "Why." 

Then  what  will  take  a  father's  part? 

151 


Her  life  and  mine,  too  strongly  bound 

For  aught  to  sever  us  in  twain. 
Thou  shouldst  have  been  the  third  pure  link 

For  her  sweet  sake,  if  not  for  mine. 

And  when  a  father's  love  she  asks 

Of  me,  and  where  he  is,  and  what, 

Thinkest  thou  the  task  an  easy  one 

To  make  reply,  when  truth  is  sought? 

And  tho  to  her  no  word  I   say, 

Less  tender  tongues  will  tell  the  tale 

Of  virtue  crushed  and  honor  slain, 
Because  of  one  false  wanton  pale. 

Canst  thou  not  feel,  dost  thou  not  know 

My  child  and  thine  will  share  thy  shame? 

E'en  though  'twere  miles  'tween  thee  and  her ; 

For   through   time's   flight   she   bears   thy   name. 

E'en  tho  thy  love  for  sin  was  great, 
Could  not  her  kiss  and  childish  smile 

Forever  be  thy  one  safeguard, 

And  save  thee  from  the  wanton's  guile? 

Remember  this :  tho  sinful  lust 

Hath  rudely  torn  thee  from  my  heart, 

I  still  can  love  thy  child  and  mine, 
Though  we  and  thou  forever  part. 

While  thou  and  she,  who  lured  thee  on 

With   sinful    ways,   together   live, 
Thy  child  and  I  will  watch  and  wait 

What  fortune  brings  and  fate  shall  give. 
152 


And  so  we  leave.  No  legal  tie, 

No  words  of  love,  or  tears,  regret, 

Can  hold  us  longer  in  thy  life. 

Much  better  'twere  had  we  not  met. 

Seek  not  to  follow.     Go  thy  way. 

Our  path  and  thine  no  longer  one. 
A  baby  voice  is  calling  me, 

I  drop  my  pen;  my  writing's  done. 


Even  tho'  the  years  are  flitting, 
Closer  still  your  hearts  are  knitting, 
And  the  web  of  life  you've  spun 
Will  be  worthy  when  'tis  done. 

And  your  love  makes  our  hearts  lighter, 
And  your  lives  this  old  world  brighter. 
Fifty  cheers  we  give  for  you, — 
Friends  so  noble,  brave  and  true. 


106 


tIBRARV 


A    ooo  fin?        ™ 


